


Week of the Full Moon

by Jubalii



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Battle, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Gen, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sexual Content, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seras has figured out how to tolerate the... side effects that her enhanced powers have brought. But when Alucard returns from his thirty-year absence, things are thrown into a whole new perspective for everyone involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Daemon

Reflections are dicks.

                They hardly have anything good to say; even their non-verbal communications aren’t what you want to look at. They usually tell you that your teeth are stained with the remnants of your meal, or that you walked outside without a ponytail and your hair is now frizzy, or even that you probably should have stayed in bed today, because it’s clear that you didn’t get enough beauty sleep.

Luckily for humans, reflections can’t speak. Otherwise, they might tell you things you don’t want to hear. They may decide to voice their opinions about how your bathroom counter is covered in dried toothpaste, or how dusty your vanity is. They may sneer at your choice of clothing while _tactfully_ pointing out that everyone can see the three spare tires you carry around when you wear that shirt. No, it is best that reflections stay quiet and just mimic the faces women make when they put on makeup.

                However, non-humans don’t have it so lucky. Seras Victoria found this out the hard way when she looked in the mirror one night in her room and her reflection arched a brow, remarking “Are you really planning on going out in _that_?” Seras never answered, since she fainted dead away from shock.

                Upon waking, Seras discovered a wonderful, horrible thing. She was a vampire. Well, more specifically she was a vampire that had lived to be about ten years old.

                “That comes with several major changes,” her reflection had explained in a slow, calm tone. It was still standing, though Seras was sitting in one of the two chairs in her room and staring at the mirror with a sense of morbid fascination and overwhelming concern for her own sanity. “One of those being that our powers are settling down a bit.” The reflection tilted its head, searching for the right words. “Meeting your ten-year mark; it’s almost like vampire puberty of sorts.” Seras nodded faintly. She could understand that metaphor well enough.             

                “Vampire puberty.” Seras shook her head and looked at the mirror again. “And you are…who exactly? I mean, you’re _me_ obviously, but at the same time….” The reflection smiled knowingly.

                “Technically, I’m a physical manifestation of your inner powers using a reflected surface as a medium between your physical plane and mine.” Seras eye twitched and the reflection laughed. “I’m a more realistic form than the one your shadows take, but we’re basically one and the same.” She shook her head at the same time Seras opened her mouth. “No, no one else can see me. And no, Captain Bernadotte doesn’t know about me. The only one that can speak to me is you.” It smiled. “We Midians are a strange bunch, aren’t we?”

                “I’ll say.” Seras stood, finally grounded enough to be on her feet without swaying. “And so what other changes are coming that I should know about?” she asked almost angrily. She was irritated— as she’d been many times in the last ten years— that Alucard hadn’t thought to warn her of this. A small part of her always piped up with the thought that clearly Alucard had been planning on being around longer than what he’d been, but still—it wasn’t fair that she had to go through all this alone! The reflection thought for a moment, hand stroking the tip of its chin as it pondered before snapping its fingers.

                “Well, first and foremost would be your cycles.” Seras’ eyes widened and she groaned audibly after a moment. She looked around, her face coloring as she leaned in close to the glass. The reflection leaned in too, coming close to hear what she was going to say.

                “You mean that I’m getting my period again? I thought that I’d be safe now that…well, I mean ten years have gone by without—” She blushed fully and couldn’t say any more. The reflection tittered and shook its head.

                “No, no, no. Not menstrual cycles. Estrous cycles. Completely different things.” The reflection mused for a moment before walking out of the mirror’s frame. It returned a moment later with a reflection of the chair in Seras’ room before sitting down on it. It crossed its legs and rested its hands on one knee. “Listen. When Midians get to a certain age, they aren’t baby fledglings anymore. They grow up a little, so to speak. It really is like puberty.”

                “Are-are you giving me “the talk”?” Seras asked with a slightly-hysterical giggle as she got her chair and sat it in front of the mirror, mimicking the reflection’s pose. The reflection shrugged and fluffed the blonde bangs away from its face.

                “The point being—our bodies are ready to choose a, well—hmm.” The reflection paused, crimson eyes becoming befuddled. “What’s the word I’m looking for…” it muttered. Seras, seeing where the conversation was heading, tried to help.

                “Boyfriend? Lover? Mate? Significant other? Husband?” she spouted off. The reflection frowned and nodded.

                “There’s not really a word for it, but I suppose that “spouse” could suffice. It’s the same as being married, but without the holy vows and “before the eyes of God” and such and such.” It clicked a gloved finger against one fang and hummed to itself. “Well, anyhow; that’s what’s happening. It’s time.”

                “I see…” Seras frowned and looked down at her body; horrid, defiant thing that it was. “And so _what’s_ going to happen to me? I mean, am I going to turn into a bat for a week or what?” The reflection began to laugh hard enough to sway sideways and almost fall off the chair. Seras glared crossly at it until it managed to calm down.

                “No! Silly thing; we’re not turning into _animals_ here!” it crowed. It wiped the red stains from its eyes and cleared its throat, trying to regain a sense of control. “It’s just a few minor changes. For now anyway.”

                “For now? You mean it escalates or something?” The reflection nodded.

                “These first few times, no one will pay attention to what’s going on but you. Your powers will begin to amplify, and you’ll notice that your scent changes a bit. This is what happens for the first few months, at least. Your power boost will remain, but the new scent will diminish with the new moon.”

                “New moon?” Seras tilted her head and frowned. “That’s when it all ends?” The reflection nodded again.

                “Yes. It starts fully with the full moon, ends fully with the new moon, and a break in-between until you find the right guy.” It paused. “Or girl. I’m not picky.” Seras sighed.

                “So you’re saying that until I choose a… spouse, if you will, I’m going to be basically in heat for weeks at a time.” The reflection nodded with a bright smile on its face.

                “Exactly! You got it!” It gave a thumbs-up. “Don’t worry about going off and finding someone though. Your pheromones act as a natural filter. Only certain other vampires will be attracted to it, so it does all the process of elimination for you!” It grinned cheerfully. “And even the humans won’t be bothered by it. It smells faintly sweet to their ill-mannered noses, so you won’t have to run away from them.”

                “I see,” Seras mumbled again. “This sounds like it’s going to be a pain in the bum.”

                “Oh, it will be,” the reflection agreed gleefully. “But you’ll always have me here to help you out. When you go through it, I go through it, so we can lean on each other.” It frowned at the mirror. “Well, not literally but you get my point.” It held its hand up against the glass and Seras brought hers up to match it; a perfect fit. She smiled and the reflection returned the gesture before pointing again to her clothing.

                “If you’re really going to wear that, pick a better bra.”

* * *

o-o-o-o-o _15 years later_ o-o-o-o-o

“Fuck it all!” Seras moaned as she slumped down against the wall of the bathroom, clutching her stomach for dear life. Her dæmon leaned up against the mirror and looked down sadly, its face a mirrored shade of green. “Men don’t have to go through all this!”

“No, but they go through something a bit like it when they begin courtship,” the reflection conceded. “Although their pains aren’t half as bad.” Seras groaned again and leaned over the side of the toilet, throwing up thick chunks of half-congealed blood and black bile.

“It’s worse than last month. A million times worse.” The reflection nodded with a frown.

“It’s because you’re officially twenty-five years old this month. You haven’t chosen a mate yet,” it admonished gently. Seras scowled up at it and the reflection shrugged. “I know you want to wait, but it’s only going to get worse and worse until you finally choose. We’ll start burning this year, too.”

“Burning!?” Seras’ voice reached a high-pitched shriek. “What are we going to do—have a sudden yearning for sunlight?”

“No but…. You’ll see.” The reflection ducked down out of the mirror and shadows skated across the floor to brush the Draculina’s hair back sympathetically as she lurched over to heave again despite the empty contents of her stomach. “You’ll see,” an airy voice whispered inside her mind.

* * *

o-o-o-o-o _5 years later_ o-o-o-o-o

 

                “Thirty years old—happy deathday!” the reflection cheered. Seras scowled and moved away from the mirror before burying her face in her hands. “Or maybe not so happy. I thought you’d be ecstatic, now that your creator has returned.”

                “I would be, under any normal circumstances. But I can feel it, and I know you can too,” Seras moaned in utter embarrassment. The dæmon frowned and mimicked the motion of patting the Draculina’s hair through the glass. “What am I supposed to do? Do you realize how embarrassing it’s going to be for me?” she wailed.

                “We’re not the first female vampires, you know. He knows what we’ll go through. He’d have reason to worry if _nothing_ were to happen to us.” This thought did little to calm the vampiress and the dæmon scowled in irritation. “Quit crying! If you’re going to bemoan your own fate, at least do it with as much dignity as possible!” Seras sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve, looking up with red-rimmed eyes at the mirror across the room.

                “I’m sorry. You don’t have to be so mean,” she mumbled. The reflection rolled its eyes and stepped out of the mirror, its humanoid form dissolving into shadows that slithered up the table leg and pulled Seras’ glove off her one good hand.

                “Come along then, let’s get to bed. It’s been a long night and tomorrow will be even longer,” the light voice whispered in her mind. Seras nodded and rose from her chair, “arm” shifting into a shapeless void.

                “Pip, I’m going to sleep,” she called into the inky darkness. The Captain’s torso emerged and he gave her a thumbs-up and a nod before melting back into the gloom of her powers. “Don’t bother waking me unless it’s someone important,” she added as an afterthought before crawling into her coffin and closing the lid. “I need my sleep. Lord knows I won’t be getting any next week.”

* * *

                Alucard sat quietly in the corner, leaning back in a procured chair that Integra had had brought for him. He tilted the chair on two legs, gazing out at the spacious office from beneath the brim of his hat. Integra was talking to Meadows, the current Hellsing retainer, about the supplies being trucked in for next week.

                “Everything seems to be in order then.” Integra hunched over the paper slightly, reading it slowly and going over the list in more detail. “Oh, don’t forget the ice for Seras; she’s going to need enough for eight days at least,” she ordered, looking up from the paper at the aged man standing across from her. He nodded and scribbled a side note on the paper once he had gotten it back from her.

                “Perhaps ten days,” he mused openly. “Last month eight was hardly enough. She did mention that each passing becomes a bit longer.” Integra nodded with a frown.

                “Poor girl,” she said pityingly and Meadows nodded his agreement before bowing and leaving without another word. Alucard waited until the burly man had completely made it down the hall before asking.

                “What, pray tell, does the Police Girl need ten days’ worth of ice for?” he queried half-curiously.

                “To sit in, when the pain gets to her head. She says it’s like flames licking all up and down her body; an immense hot flash that’s a side effect of the moon, of all things.” Integra picked up a pen and a scrap sheet of paper, writing a short memo to the captains before typing it up in an email. “You wouldn’t know; apparently it only happens to _female_ vampires.” She said the last part in a sort of disgusted fascination: he likened it to van Helsing himself, who used the same infliction whenever he found out a new, morbid fact about Nosferatu and their habits.

                “Hm.” Of course, the Cycles. He’d completely forgotten. He returned to his silent state, his mind turning over this new tidbit of information. Of course his little fledgling would need some ice. He’d been gone 30 years, and she hadn’t chosen any sort of mate yet; that much was clear. The Draculina had to be in a terribly anguished state every two month. He allowed himself the tiniest smidgen of sympathy for the girl. _Poor thing, poor thing_ , he thought to himself, mimicking his Master’s pity.

 


	2. It Begins Again

                “14 days and 18 hours. 14 days and 18 hours.” Seras lay on the bed, repeated the mantra as she felt her Cycle begin somewhere deep in her bowels. Strangely enough, it felt the way her stomach did in the few days before her human periods; a weird sort of indicator, as if her body were trying to warn her of what was to come. Of course, in her life periods came with bruises on her legs and aches in her muscles—two things she wasn’t able to have anymore. Her vampiric body healed aches faster than the brain could register them. Her bruises would fade before they were fully formed.

                “Of course, it’s a blessing to you that nothing lasts the full 14 days,” her dæmon commented in the mirror, somewhere beyond her line of vision. It was right; lucky for her, the burning lasted ten days at most. It was the same every month—three days of her stomach churning, during which her scent noticeably changed. Then the burning began: over a week’s worth of pain. It was like being burned at the stake while you were suffering from hot flashes with an 104 degree fever all at the same time. And it was constant—no matter if she was asleep or awake.

She’d finally figured out that ice helped the problem somewhat, and she made sure to stay in an ice bath the entire time. Otherwise, she became a writhing torrent of pain and nothing could be done to help her as her brain fried in her skull, only to heal itself indefinitely. No amount of cool washcloths or hands could help her.

Thankfully, the burning was the worst pain of it all. After it, there were only two or three days of nearly unbearable tension on her body. It was purely sexual in nature, and all the more mortifying for the innocent little vampire who had to go through it. The only good part of it all was that the human males did nothing for her. The soldiers in the house could roam freely, unafraid of being caught in the night for a late night romp-and-snack in the basement hallways. Seras never had to worry about losing control, although the dæmon had (rather unconvincingly) told her that she’d _never_ be taken advantage of in that manner.

Still… she turned over, hiding her face in the pillow. Her master was back, and he’d not said much of anything to her. In fact, she was pretty sure she could count the times he’d addressed her in the past week on her one good hand! He spent all of his wakeful time either with Sir Integra or out on missions.

“What did you expect? Training?” The reflection let out a short bark of laughter. “You trained yourself, girly. You don’t even need a master anymore,” it added with a clearly inflated sense of pride for both her and itself. “We’re the best Hellsing’s got. Second only to Alucard himself.”

“There’s always room for improvement,” Seras rattled off. It was a phrase her old Captain had enjoyed using, instead of a simple “Good Job”. The reflection scoffed and a sulky silence ensued. Seras growled under her breath at the egotistical creature she’d been so _goddamn blessed with_ and sighed heavily. Great, now she felt all twisted up inside. She knew that the dæmon was just openly expressing the fluctuating hormones that her body was presenting her, but she still wanted to throw a chair and smash the mirror so that it would be quiet. Or cry and watch a sappy movie about true love and soul mates. Or maybe… maybe she was just a little hungry.


	3. Fighting Those Urges

                Alucard opened his eyes, staring at the lid of his coffin drowsily. It wasn’t often that he sought the dark sanctity of the coffin, much preferring to sleep in his chair in order to keep track of who came in and out of his room. But he was still exhausted from making his way back to the mortal realm, and killing all those souls had taken a lot out of him. Even though he felt lighter and all around _better_ than he had in years, the toll of those bodies had finally begun to weigh on him, and he’d decide to sleep in the energizing soil until he regained every bit of his stamina.

                He frowned, his mind still half-asleep as he blinked the lethargy away. It was early in the afternoon—he usually didn’t wake quite this early. Something had woken him… but what? He kicked the lid open and stepped out, stretching slightly and shaking the dust from his clothing. He carefully replaced the coffin’s lid and eyed it for a moment before nodding in satisfaction.

                Looking around the bleak chambers that had been his prison for decades now, he couldn’t help the scowl that crossed his otherwise emotionless features. It was every bit as practical as it was mundane, and while he was no interior decorator he’d always kept his home from looking like a dungeon. But his coffin was all that he’d been allowed to take with him. As far as he knew, his belongings were rotting away in his castle, if thieves hadn’t already plundered the place and taken the lot.

                He walked past “his” chair, the one bookcase he’d found somewhere in the dingy basement and made his own, and the table that Walter had brought down some years past and never taken up again. He spared them a quick glance to make sure all was in order before opening the door that led to his private bathroom.

While he tended to stay on the “old-fashioned” side of things, he did have to admit that indoor plumbing was better than finding what water you could. He didn’t even look at the toilet sitting alone, covered in thirty years of dust. He wasn’t even hydrated enough to worry about that. He instead focused on his evening ritual, which varied depending on how dirty he’d been the night before. A single splash of water on his face, followed by brushing his teeth—even if he was a vampire, bad breath wasn’t something anyone could be happy with. Looking at the mirror, he ran his hands through his hair twice, not bothering to find a comb.

The reflection made a face, its eyes looking up at the hands running through its hair reproachfully.

“You ought to brush your hair, at least. It looks like a rat’s nest.”

                “Good,” Alucard replied icily, not bothering to add that the dæmon’s comments weren’t wanted before the London Blitz, and they certainly weren’t now. His reflection sniffed and pouted for a moment before walking out of the mirror.

He had half a thought that it acted more like the Police Girl than it did himself, but that was normal. A vampire’s dæmon was the manifestation of their powers, and the deeper, more personal half of their soul. They acted in a way completely different than the person acted, which made it all the more better than no one could see it. Alucard was especially frustrated by his dæmon; who, while not completely over the top with gushy feelings, still held a bit of empathy and kindness as well as a self-conscious nature that didn’t become the vampire it personified.

He bit back a chuckle at the thought of what his fledgling’s dæmon might be like. He’d never know, of course, but he could imagine that it would be a forward, obstinate creature with all the traits of a narcissistic egomaniac. He almost felt a strain of pity for the poor blonde; such a creature would surely drive her insane at times. He knew his did.

At that, he heard his dæmon give an indignant huff somewhere beyond the mirror’s edge, proof that it was only sulking right out of sight and not completely gone. Alucard finished as best he could without a reflection to base his appearance off of and mused aloud as he left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with his shadows.

“If I asked, would you tell me what her dæmon was like?” he said. The dæmon hummed thoughtfully in his ear, seemingly weighing its options. Alucard waited as patiently as he could—while the dæmon got on his nerves, it was still a part of him, and he couldn’t really bring himself to hate himself… as strange as it sounded. It made perfect sense to him, though, so he simply sat in his chair and wondered if the butler would remember to bring his blood at 7:00 pm.

“Perhaps,” the dæmon said finally. “It would depend on what you wanted to know about it.”

“Just what it’s like,” Alucard answered, his stomach growling lightly.

“Quit being lazy and go find yourself something to drink. You know where it’s at,” the dæmon snapped irritably. “I hate listening to your stomach growl just because you think you’re royalty.”

“I am royalty,” Alucard countered, tugging at his gloves absently. The dæmon scoffed.

“Royalty that spent most of his life as a prisoner. Even now….” It trailed off, knowing that enough had been said to make its point. Alucard growled and it laughed, completely unafraid. “That won’t work on me, Your Majesty. You can’t be afraid of yourself.”

“I might find a philosopher, just to prove you wrong,” Alucard replied. The dæmon laughed again and lapsed into silence while Alucard’s stomach growled again, this time more loudly.

“Seras is awake,” it said after a moment, and Alucard almost hissed at the tender, adoring way it pronounced her name. He did _not_ say it like that; it was never meant to be said that way. “She’s got her blood with her,” it continued, not paying attention to the vampire’s anger. “She might share, if you don’t want to go upstairs.”

Alucard considered it. He hadn’t had much to do with Seras since he’d returned, and he knew she was feeling a bit jaded. She might not let him have any, or let him have her meal and then subject him to lectures on her _feelings_. Or she might get sullen and throw him the blood without a word. _Yes, that last one might be the best for us all._

His mind made up, he stood and began to make his way up from the sublevel of the basement, his mind still focusing on his fledgling. He was pretty sure it was his dæmon’s fault; the creature had a soft spot for the girl that he’d like to forget about.

It wasn’t that he was angry at the girl, or even that he didn’t want to be around her. He’d only been back a week and a half, and in that time he’d been on at least five missions. Sir Integra had also been catching him up on the happenings of the past three decades, which took a while. He’d had no pressing reason to go and speak to her, so he’d put it off. There wasn’t anything more about it.

If anything, she’d finally become something worthy of his praise. He’d hadn’t had a good chance to look at her, but his scant memories of her behavior during the London Blitz had left him feeling that his master had been in good hands while he was busy destroying souls.

He climbed the stone stairs leading to the upper levels, the air getting steadily warmer and brighter with each step. His shadows skirted along the edges of the stairs ahead of him, filling in the cracks and keeping an eye on the surroundings like a sort of tangible sixth sense. He was almost at the top stair when he felt his dæmon give a start. He stopped, every hair on his body tingling as he tried to figure out what was different.

 _Breathe_ , the dæmon whispered almost fretfully in his mind and he noticed he was holding his breath automatically; a habit formed from years of avoiding gas-laden traps in the various places he’d been sent to on missions. He obeyed, taking a deep breath, and instantly every nerve inside his body was set alight. He gave a shudder and melted back into the shadows, trying to slow down the frantic feeling bubbling beneath his skin.

 _What—what is_ : he was unable to even pinpoint what the feeling was, although he knew that he’d felt it before, many centuries ago. He tried to put a face to the shadow that came from his memories, but drew a blank.

It was the scent in the air that had him in such a shaky state. It was… hydrangeas and cinnamon, floral and spicy with something undefinable beneath. He breathed it in again, more carefully and with shorter gasps that sounded more like hyperventilating than normal breathing. As alarming as the sensation was, it was just as addicting. He couldn’t get enough of it.

“Where is it coming from,” he managed to breathe, staying more quiet than he’d ever thought to before. He didn’t care if people saw him talking to himself; who was going to call him on it? But he didn’t want to draw attention should a scientist or soldier walk down the hall. Something was… wrong with him. Was he ill?

He immediately discarded the thought as quickly as it had come. Vampires didn’t get ill. It was impossible. Viruses couldn’t live in a body that wasn’t warm. They had no functioning organs to speak of, other than their stomachs— and you couldn’t get the stomach flu from medicinal blood. Even blood borne pathogens and venereal diseases couldn’t take hold in a vampire’s body.

 _On down the hall,_ the dæmon answered in a panicked tone. _We should just go to the kitchens. No need to walk through the basement._ Alucard scoffed at the weak half-plea. This was why he couldn’t stand the dæmon sometimes. It acted like it was _frightened_ , for Pete’s sake.

“We’re going to the Police Girl’s room,” he stated firmly. “Do you doubt my self-control?”

 _Yes_ , it replied before scurrying back across the floor in shadow form, rising up the wall and taking Alucard’s shape. In the back of his mind, it seemed resigned to let him do as he please, but still keeping a conscious hold of “You-shouldn’t-do-that”. Alucard snarled at it and his shadow shrugged before waving its hand in a “lead the way” gesture.

He stalked down the hall, his mind battling between whether to give in and breathe or hold his breath. He chose the latter, and it worked fine until he turned the corner and threw his fledgling’s door wide open.

“And I’m telling you, it really doesn’t matter if he wants to or not, no one’s going to willingly choose to be there!” Seras was saying to the open air, and although she was looking in the blank face of the mirror Alucard knew that her dæmon must have been standing in it.

Seras herself was in a large bathtub that had taken the place of the wooden table in the middle of her room. She was sitting up in it, holding a book gingerly above the rim as she looked over at the mirror. From her neck down she was covered in ice, and she had a little bag of it sitting on her head, making her hair wet with condensation. Even emerged as she was, her cheeks glowed with heat and sweat was clearly beading on her forehead and arms.

She saw his reflection in the mirror and her head whipped around quickly, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Master!” she squeaked. The only thing he could think was that thirty years ago, she would have dodged down beneath the ice in mortification, even though she was clearly still wearing her undergarments. Now, she didn’t even bother covering herself, instead leaning over the edge of the tub and staring him down as he stood in the door.

After no one moved, she finally cleared her throat and sunk only slightly beneath the surface. “Er, did you need something, Master?” she asked awkwardly, eyeing him warily. “I would have thought that Sir Integra… I mean, I can’t really do much… um, well….” She trailed off, looking away and her cheeks turned even rosier.

As for him, his mind was turning faster than he could keep up with. He stared down at her, vaguely aware that he’d started to breathe again, the dæmon strangely quiet and not shouting its usual “I told you so”.

                He’d completely forgotten that Seras was going through her Cycles now. Not that it was supposed to matter to him. But his body was responding in such a way… there was no doubt. A phantom ache started in his stomach and he felt his knees begin to shake, despite all efforts to remain standing. His mouth became dry and he forgot all about asking her for blood to drink. The very thought of-of _blood_ , right now, in this sort of setting… it would be asking too much of them both. He knew it, even as he turned on his heel and forced himself to walk away from the source of that delightfully tempting fragrance.

Such a union would be disastrous. Besides, he wasn’t meant to settle with anyone, much less a weak snippet of a girl and a fledgling vampire at that! But deep down his gut continued to churn, his body betraying the attraction between their dæmons. He cursed under his breath, already counting the days until the new moon.

He had to quash these urges—no matter how desirable they seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing in this story (to me, anyway) would be that since dæmons use mirrors as a source of reflection, and only vampires can see their dæmon, that anyone else looking at a vampire looking into a mirror would see no reflection at all. 
> 
> Thus, the myth was born that vampires have no reflections. Yay, silly convoluted plot points!


	4. Introspection

                Seras watched the door to her bedroom, mouth slightly agape, book lying forgotten on the ground. For some strange reason, she suddenly felt overexposed and sunk down in the water, partially-melted ice cubes clinking and swirling around her. She went ahead and got her hair wet, sinking fully beneath the water and staring at the glimmering light above the surface. The water felt good—nice and cold, chilling her overheated skin. But even fully submerged, she still felt too warm. The ice bath wasn’t doing as good a job as it had been the past few years.

                She reemerged and shook her head, water droplets flying off her hair and hitting the stones around her. She grinned slightly at the mess, but it faded as fast it had appeared. She couldn’t shake the experience she’d just had with her master. Pushing her back against the side of the tub and allowing her arms to dangle behind her over the sides, she threw her head back to stare at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression.

                She hadn’t been the one acting crazy. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what had happened! She’d just been chatting with her dæmon, talking about one of the soldier’s latest schemes to get rich quick. She’d glanced over the dæmon’s shoulder and saw her master standing in the door. He’d surprised her, but she was talking too much to have heard him walk in. Turning around, she’d wondered if he’d thought to collect her for a mission or something.

                Before he’d disappeared, she would have been too embarrassed to let him see her half-naked. But after years of conversation her dæmon’s brash, vain attitude had rubbed off on her, if only slightly. She was under the water, and only her arms and décolleté were bare—she was more revealing in some of the dresses she wore to Sir Integra’s various functions! Besides; if he wanted to get an eyeful, let him! He didn’t have to look; he had more self-control than the average human male… or at least she assumed he did.

                But she was still unsure of where they stood, at least in the matter of speaking terms. She’d floundered slightly as she tried to explain away the tub; it was only halfway through her thought process that she realized he was more than easily able to deduce why she was sitting in a tub of melting ice during the full moon. He wasn’t an idiot.

               She’d expected him to answer, say something snarky or dismissive, or at least tell her why he’d come to her room. But he’d just stared at her with the strangest expression on his face. He’d been close enough that she could see his eyes behind the sunglasses. They had been wider than dinner plates! And his _breathing_ ; if she didn’t know better, she’d have said he’d just come in from running a 5k marathon. But… vampires didn’t even need to breathe. So what was going on? Not only that, but he had been staring at her like she’d grown a second head, and she could have sworn that for a fraction of a second, he’d trembled.

                “That was hot,” a voice gurgled appreciatively. Seras looked around at the empty mirror before staring straight down in the water. The dæmon was sprawled out as a reflection on the water’s surface, its arms pearly white and wavering in the ripples created by Seras’ breaths.

                “Get out of my bath,” she replied irritably, splashing the water to make the reflection disperse. However, it did little good and all she got was a dirty look.

                “I came in here to cool off,” the dæmon snapped. “It’s not _my_ fault you’re moody.”

                “It is too!” Seras scowled, crossing her arms with another furtive glance at the door. “And it wasn’t hot, and it never _will be_ hot, so keep your shadows and your comments to yourself.” She looked away, debating on whether to pull herself out of the icy depths long enough to retrieve her book.

When she realized the dæmon had been silent for more than a few minutes, she turned back to the water with an anxious look. It was still in the water, watching Seras with a pensive expression on its face. Their eyes met and the corners of its lips turned into a frown.

                “You do not desire him?” it asked, and Seras was surprised to hear the honest puzzlement in its tone instead of derision. “I—I don’t understand.” For the first time in a long time, it sounded more like Seras than it did itself; uncertain and anxious.

                “You know who he is. I know who he is. That’s…” Seras paused, her eyes flashing to the door and back as if afraid to be overheard. She dipped down carefully in the water and the dæmon rippled up to where Seras was speaking close to its ear. “Do you realize how terrifying that would be? He’s killed thousands of people; the real amount is catastrophic!” In her mind’s eye, she was back on top of the burning buildings and watching the streets of London be filled with the waves of bloodstained, moaning, undead souls.

                “Yes,” the dæmon agreed in a hushed tone, even though they both knew that only Seras could hear it. “But he’d never hurt you.” Seras opened her mouth, and then closed it without a sound as she considered it.

                “Even so,” Seras said melancholically, “he doesn’t really like me all that much, I don’t think.” The dæmon snorted.

                “Did you not take a good enough look at him? He was _shaking_ , for God’s sake! He wanted you. And his dæmon,” it added with a hint of its previous egotistical sneer, “wanted me.” Seras conceded with a nod.

                “Yes, but that was just lust. Because of the way I am right now.” She gave a little shake. “I don’t know _why_ though. I wouldn’t think that I was good enough for him. And I think he’d think that too.” The dæmon laughed.

                “He probably does, but that’s the best thing, isn’t it?” it crowed. “He doesn’t have a say in which vampire he’s attracted to. It all lies with us, until you choose someone.” Seras sniffed and the reflection grinned wickedly up at her.

                “I don’t care if he wants me or not. I’m going to choose someone that can love me.” When the dæmon looked at her strangely, she shrugged. “I don’t think Master is capable of love, to be honest. He’s barely able to show anything warmer than contempt, and he doesn’t go far beyond mere “respect” if he does.” The dæmon thought for a long time before answering.

                “He was able to love, once. He’s just forgotten the depths of which he’s able to feel.” Seras sighed and it spoke again, something akin to sympathy in its tone. “He is a very lonely man.”

                “Only because he chooses to be,” Seras countered.

                “Because that’s all he knows,” the dæmon argued. “Seras,” it said, and the Draculina looked down in surprise. Her dæmon hardly used her true name, unless it was something serious. “He’s not—” it stopped, the face in the reflection screwed up in thought. “I’m not saying that it’s not his fault, because a lot of it is. I’m not trying to turn him into a jilted hero.” It frowned before speaking again. “Alucard… he can be frightened, too.”

                Seras laughed bitterly, splashing the water as she flung her hand in the air dismissively. “Master? _Frightened_? Now you’ve just gone mental. He’s not afraid of anything. He’s practically omnipotent.”

                “He’s not afraid of physical pain, or being defeated, or anything like that,” the dæmon agreed. “He understands all those things, and has been dealing with them for centuries. But, like us all, he’s afraid of what he cannot fathom.” When Seras stared at it blankly, it sighed. “Emotions, change, things that are different. It comes with being the only constant in a world that’s constantly changing around you.”

                “You’re not making sense.”

                “Things that are new, and don’t behave the same way as he does, intrigue him.” Seras’ mind suddenly jumped back to her many memories where he was staring at her as if trying to figure her out and she nodded in understanding. “But emotions startle him. When he begins to feel them himself, he tries to throw away whatever is causing those emotions and goes back to his status quo.”

                _Why not drink_? Something in the way he’d said those words had nagged Seras for years, but it was as if someone had clicked on a light switch in her brain and it became clear.

                “You mean… he was frightened of _me_?” she asked in utter disbelief. The dæmon shook its head.

                “Not of you, per say, but of the emotions you caused within him.” It looked away. “That’s why he stays here, in this basement.” Seras made a move to argue and it cut her off. “No, he could leave at any time. I think the spells binding him to this house died with van Helsing.”

                “How?” Seras asked. “Sir Integra’s alive.”

                “Spells like that do not move from generation to generation. Only a dark wizard has enough power for his incantations to live on after his death. And while I believe van Helsing was a very talented occultist, he was far too Christian to sell his soul for that sort of capability.”

                “How would you know?” Seras asked. It smiled wryly.

                “I can read this house. Many things have happened here. Do not forget what I am; although we are one, we are still two separate entities. I exist in a plane that reveals much more… residue, if you will, than your three-dimensional plane does.”

                “I see.” Seras settled into the water and drew her knees up to her chin. “And Master stays in the basement, why?”

                “Because it’s familiar to him now. The world outside has changed a good deal since the 1800s. But this basement, and this house, have not changed that much. So he stays here, where it’s familiar to him. Where he feels comfortable.”

                “But why doesn’t he go back to the place he came from, if he can leave? He doesn’t have to stay in England.” The dæmon shrugged.

                “That, I don’t know. You’d have to ask for yourself. I can only tell you my thoughts on it.” Seras thought for a moment before looking at the dæmon in bewilderment.

                “But—but Master has only been back a little while,” she said in confusion. “How did you gather all that in such a short time?”

                “I’ve been here the whole time!” it shrieked. “The minute his fangs met your throat, I was there. I had to wait until you drank blood and gathered your strength, and then when your powers began to settle, before I could say anything. But don’t think I haven’t seen the same amount you have.” It skulked away to the mirror, shadows moving along languidly. “Besides, you’ve known it in your head all along. I just voiced it for you.”

* * *

Alucard stalked a circle around his bedchambers, one he’d made time and time before whenever bad news or an order had upset him enough that he couldn’t hold the rage in. If he threw his furniture it wouldn’t be replaced, and there wasn’t a training dummy strong enough to take any attack of his, so the only other way to get rid of his frustrations happened to be pacing. He was surprised he hadn’t worn a rut in the floor by this point.

                Even now, he was walking the familiar circle, his hands running through his hair as it grew and retraced on its own; one minute it was so short he could grab and tug at it, only to have it spilling over his hands and down his back in ebony waves the next. His hellhounds—the ever-faithful pack of multi-eyed beasts that hadn’t left him, even though they had the opportunity to leave many times before—sat under the table and the chair, hiding in the shadows and only visible when they moved and blinked, snuffling quietly as they watched their master make his repetitive rounds.

                Finally he threw himself out of the imaginary track and slammed the door to the bathroom open. True to its nature, his dæmon was in the mirror, watching him with a weary expression.

                “Walking to and fro won’t get you anywhere,” it declared. “If pacing solved all your problems, we’d be back in Wallachia by now.”

                “Keep quiet,” he hissed as he threw open the taps and watched the water as it splashed into the stained basin. He had been planning on wetting his face to cool off, but at the sight of the water he did something he hadn’t done in hundreds of years: he drank it. Trying to abate the unfamiliar thirst in his throat, he cupped his hands and gulped down handfuls of the water, ignoring the chemical taste of the added minerals and metals in it.

                He filled his stomach, only for his stomach to flip at the strange liquid and he vomited it back into the sink. The dæmon watched in disgust.

                “Aren’t you happy you didn’t drink blood? That would have hurt a lot worse coming back up,” it said in an honest effort to be soothing. Alucard choked and heaved one last time before wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.

                “Why?” he asked hoarsely, still coughing. “Why her? She’s nothing, she—how could I— _I don’t understand_ ,” he growled, gripping the sides of the sink. The porcelain cracked and the dæmon started at the noise.

                “Be careful,” it admonished. “If you break that, she’s going to ask why you did it before she’ll allow you to get a new one,” it reminded him, speaking about their human master. “And as for why,” it said, voice growing nervous. “I don’t know _why_. I just know _how_.” It watched as Alucard sat on the toilet, shoulders still jerking slightly as his body finished the last of its heaving. His host wiped a gloved hand over his face, and when he emerged from behind the curtain of hair that had fallen into his eyes he was paler than normal, his face an angry mask.

                “Idiot child!” he shouted suddenly, his voice a snarling rasp. “I should have let her die at the hands of that goddamned vicar!”

                “We both know you don’t mean that,” the dæmon responded quietly. They fell silent; the only sounds in the bathroom were the plink of water hitting the basin from a tap that hadn’t been turned all the way off and Alucard’s harsh breathing, which ebbed as he sat still and tried to gather what was left of his composure.

                One by one, his familiars traipsed in the door and gathered around him in a large pack, snuffling at each other and pushed against his legs, sniffing and licking his hands and blinking up at the dæmon with curious red eyes. The dæmon blinked back, wondering if the hellhounds could see it. After all, animals were much more perceptive than humans were.

                Eventually, Alucard’s hand moved from his thigh to rest on one of the dogs’ head. He petted it, his gaze slowly becoming solemn.

                “What should be done?” he asked the dæmon, who looked up and scratched its chin.

                “We could always court her,” it said half-hopefully. Alucard growled under his breath and the dæmon shrugged. “Or we could give her freedom from us. She can go and choose whomever she pleases.”

                “I’ve already made the offer, and she denied,” he reminded it, refusing to look into the mirror. As a sire, he knew that it had been wrong to make such an important offer so early in his fledgling’s new life. But he’d felt a strange sense of uncertainty, because during their fight with Anderson, he’d become… concerned with her wellbeing. A new vampire shouldn’t have held up as well as she did under those blessed blades. After all, the bayonets had hurt _him_ ; powerful or not—what burned, _burned_. He wasn’t immune to pain.

                Watching her get stabbed over a dozen times had erupted something in his gut that he’d not felt in centuries. It had startled him, and he’d given her the opportunity to go free before he could even think about what he was saying. She’d refused—now, it was her call. He could never ask her again. She’d have to voluntarily take her liberty from him.

                “I remember now.” It looked at the ceiling before sliding out of the mirror, dodging the shadowy familiars, who barked and tried to pin the shadow tendrils down with their paws. It slid up to wrap around his arms, speaking lowly in his ear. “Well, I suppose we could encourage her to go out and find a consort. Or pick a suitable one for her, perhaps.”

                A foreign strain of _something_ hit him hard enough at the thought of her with someone else that he almost fell off the seat, clutching his stomach. Was he still ill? No, it was… emotions, emotions of some sort, which twisted his innards and made him want to go out and destroy something—and it was familiar. He sat up, eyes growing wide as he realized what it was.

                “Jealous?” the dæmon teased before dissipating around his body, settling down in the back of his mind. Alucard didn’t reply. Instead he stood, scattering hounds as he strode out the door of the bathroom and dissipated himself. He reformed at the front door of the manor and walked past the guards.

                He looked up at the bright full moon hanging over the manor, his eyes seeking out every familiar crevice. He sighed and began to stroll down the pathway that led to the outdoor shooting range. He needed some fresh air, and something to kill, even if it was only a paper target.


	5. Visiting Jack

                “Hey, I’m heading out,” Seras called over her shoulder as she edged her way to the front door. Her dæmon was hopping anxiously along the wallpaper, urging her to go faster in harsh whispers. But Seras was trying to keep cool, and running would only heat her up. She already had regained the rosy glow on her cheeks, although she should have been able to leave the relative comfort of the icy bath for at least three hours. In fact, she was banking on it.

                “Not in that condition, you aren’t!” A flurry of movement on the balcony above her head had her panicking. If she dissipated, would the later punishment be worth it? Before she could find an answer, the dæmon hissed in frustration as another shadow passed over it and Sir Integra blocked the path to the door with her body.

                “You know, you could give Master a run for his money sometimes,” Seras remarked dryly. “If the two of you ever teamed up, I’d have no other choice than to stay in the basement for the next thirty years.” She made a move to go around and the heiress blocked her again, hands on her hips.

                “Where are you going?” she asked in a stern voice. Seras felt the dæmon scowl and tried to hide her own irritation. “You know that in your condition, anywhere you go you’ll be attracting all sorts of trouble. Besides, what if you get caught away and run out of time before your bath? You’ll be hurting terribly,” she warned.

                “I know, Sir.” Seras fought to keep calm, knowing it was just her uncomfortable situation that was making her snappy. “But I need to go see… a friend. The bath isn’t working very well anymore.” Sir Integra couldn’t hide her surprise, the emotion flitting across her face and closely followed by a rare strain of concern.

                “What?” Her good eye searched Seras’ face for a hint of dishonesty. “It’s—not working? But how?” Seras shook her head.

                “I knew it would begin to get this way. I mean—” She paused, uncertain on how to explain her situation. She usually refrained from telling the humans about her dæmon; she had no reason to tell vampires, seeing as the older ones already knew and the chipped FREAKs were too human to understand. Besides, if she told Sir Integra she was sure the woman would either become overly concerned with the “voices in her head” or she would try to press Seras into being experimented on, or at least monitored.

                “The ice wasn’t going to work forever,” she finally said in defeat, unable to find a good way to clarify the details of her problem. “It’s me, really. I shouldn’t be so stubborn.” She looked away, knowing that Sir Integra would understand what she meant. The women had always teased each other that they would both die old spinsters. Now Seras no longer had that choice, and it was becoming clearer with every passing month.

                “I see,” she replied at length. “And this friend of yours, he’s….” she trailed off, looking away from her senior agent. A strange frown twisted her features and she seemed unsure. “I mean, are you coming back?” Seras winced. Sir Integra had always made it clear that if Seras wanted to leave the Organization, she wouldn’t stand in her way. After all, there were thousands of vampires in the world who flew under Hellsing’s radar, behaving themselves and only taking blood when they needed it. They left Hellsing and the humans alone for the most part, and Hellsing left them alone. But she had also made it clear that if they ever met on the battlefield, Seras wouldn’t be shown any mercy by her, or her men.

                The thought that she wasn’t caged like her master, and could leave whenever she felt like it, had always settled Seras somewhat. She had planned on sticking around until Sir Integra’s eventual death, and then going where her fancy took her. But since Alucard had returned, she had been second-guessing her plans. Did she want to leave anyway, or stay by his side? Both choices were tempting.

                Nevertheless, she knew that while Sir Integra still breathed, leaving would be hard on them both. The two women had grown as close as sisters after the London Blitz had left them with nothing but each other and a handful of war-ravaged men. Even now as Seras watched her, she knew that while Sir Integra would honor her vow to let Seras leave, it would break the older woman’s heart to watch her go.

                “I’m not leaving Hellsing anytime soon,” she promised her and hid her smile as Integra’s face lightened. “And it’s not what you think—he’s already got a woman. I just need some advice and I’ll be desperate before I even _think_ of asking Master.” Seras shuddered at the mere thought of going up to Alucard and asking something so mortifying.

Besides, after the way he’d acted last night, she didn’t want to see him for a long time. She still didn’t understand what was going on, even with her dæmon’s less than helpful declarations. Even if he was… affected by her Cycles, it shouldn’t matter. She wasn’t planning on doing _anything_ with him. The very prospect was both terrifying and cringe-worthy! She was his fledgling, for Pete’s sake! Wasn’t that a bit salacious, going after the man who technically raised you in your second life?

“Well, alright.” Sir Integra had finally talked herself into letting Seras out of the house. “I suppose you’re fully capable of taking care of yourself. Even so, take this with you.” She pulled her custom-made pistol out of its holster under her suit and handed it to Seras, who tucked it into her pants pocket. “If someone gives you trouble, don’t be afraid to aim a blessed bullet where the sun doesn’t shine,” she advised grimly, sounding like a mother badgering her daughter on stranger-danger.

“Yes, Sir! If someone messes with _me,_ ” Seras said, a wicked smile crossing her face, “they won’t have anything for me to shoot, once I get done with them.” Her dæmon cackled in her ear and she felt a rush of bloodlust from the thought. She fought the urge to drink and pressed her lips into a thin line to hide her growing fangs, sending the creature in her mind a silent warning to behave.

Sir Integra nodded and stepped aside, her brow creased slightly as she watched Seras leave the house. Seras turned to wave over her shoulder and then ran out the door and down the path, breathing in the crisp night air. She passed by two of the former Wild Geese and stopped to chat for a brief moment when they called her name, unaware that someone else was watching her just as closely as Integra.

* * *

He watched as two men hailed her from across the path and she stopped to speak with them. One was broad and blonde with a crooked nose, although his hair was fading to white and he seemed to be missing a good bit from the top. The other man was dark-skinned and wore a knitted hat that seemed to stir a memory. Seras laughed with them and waved away whatever they said, dismissing them before continuing out the gate and breaking off into a jog that was still faster than a human eye.

 _Weren’t they the mercenary’s men? I suppose they stayed behind after their leader fell. Most likely Seras convinced **her** to offer them a position at Hellsing. _ Alucard tilted his head and stared for a good moment at the men as they walked away together.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I think you’re right.” He looked up to see Seras disappearing around the corner of the manor, heading not for London but to the quiet, moonlit countryside. “Where is she going?”

 _We could always follow her_ , his dæmon suggested with a hint of mischief in its tone. _Or if you didn’t feel like facing her wrath, I suppose we could send the dogs._ Alucard chuckled under his breath, his eyes glowing in the night like an animal’s. His master would be furious if he left Hellsing grounds without her explicit permission. And it would do him some good to have a bullet or two in his system; it might clear his head.

“What my master doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I’ll be there and back before even Seras returns, as long as my curiosity is abated.” He dissipated and reformed a few miles away from Seras, watching her pass and following, careful to keep her ignorant of his presence. His dæmon branched out, wallowing in the tall grasses under the moonlight and Alucard couldn’t help but share its contentment as he stared up at the endless sky. When the fences didn’t limit his horizon, it was easy to pretend that he was free again to walk the Earth and serve no one but himself.

“But what’s the fun in that?” he laughed to himself, watching his shadows twist around the grass and dip into crevices curiously. He had grown bored of being free when van Helsing died, but now the need to be a ruler again gnawed at the edges of his mind. Perhaps when the current Hellsing passed, and the line was finally dead, he might act on those thoughts.

 _Stay upwind_ , his dæmon warned as the breeze shifted. He obediently changed his path, keeping with the proper path as he kept Seras in his sights. _Stay vigilant for that,_ the dæmon noted. _It won’t do you any good for her scent, but if you happen to catch hers this night’s going to hell in a handbasket_.

* * *

Seras couldn’t help herself as she picked up speed racing across the countryside. Her shadowy arm, which she usually tried to keep in the shape of her missing arm, fell out of form and became wings that arched across her back without touching another inch of her flesh. She took off and soared high before making a sudden dive across the rolling landscape, shrieking in delight and reveling in the feeling of freedom that flight gave her.

Her dæmon twisted along the land below, sharing in her uninhibited glee with a sense of amusement. Seras knew that no matter how it acted, it was just as happy to be out of Hellsing as she was. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her home; no, she loved every facet of the manor and the people inside. But ever since drinking blood and coming into her full power, Seras had felt an unquenchable yearning for freedom; a desire to let loose her powers and fly wherever she wanted to go. She wanted to soar beneath the stars, watching oceans and mountains pass under her and feeling the wind in her hair. It was a very powerful, unrestrained emotion.

She glided just above the grass, her fingers barely trailing the edges of the long stems before she made a 90 degree turn and flew through a cloud. The cold watery condensation cooled her instantly for a split-second and she sighed in relief before the wings vanished and she flipped to head back to earth in a free fall. Her shadows spilled all around her and her dæmon whooped in her ear; If it had a body Seras knew its arms would be wrapped around her shoulders, looking over her arm as they fell and preparing to save her in case she overestimated.

She didn’t, and the wings returned as she did a sort of barrel roll and resumed a normal place in the sky, turning to look at the lights of a small town on the horizon. Then she heard it, coming from beneath her in the darkened fields.

“Seras! _Se-ras!”_ Looking down, Seras saw the source of the scream and dropped, a broad smile on her face. She tumbled to the ground and landed softly in the field, waist-high wheatgrass swaying all around her. She moved towards a pile of grass that was swaying a bit more unsteadily than the rest, her arm reforming as she moved. Finally she got close enough to see a tow-headed young girl with sickly yellow eyes making her way as fast as she could in Seras’ direction.

“Sophie!” Seras greeted as she lifted the girl up in her arms, twirling her around once before hugging her. “I’m so glad I found you!” she said, and the five-going-on-thirty-five year old girl laughed in her ear. She pulled away and smiled sharply, her tiny, underdeveloped fangs glinting and bloodstained.

“I found a bunny rabbit,” she said in explanation before wiggling impatiently. “Where is he?” she asked, playfully pounding on Seras’ chest in order to get her to let go. “I wanna talk to the Captain!” Seras dropped her, laughing again as she called on Pip in the back of her mind. _Captain, wake up. There’s a little girl who wants to see you._

The girl giggled as Seras’ shadows parted and the ethereal captain of the Wild Geese emerged from the murky depths, ever-lit cigarette hanging loosely from between his lips. He growled playfully and the girl danced out of his reach before throwing herself into his arms, her tiny limbs slung around his neck.

“ _Mon capitaine!”_ she shouted happily before they began to converse in rapid French. Seras looked on with a soft smile as Pip wasted what little energy he had making a little girl happy. She knew that it took a lot for him to be able to manifest, even in the midst of battle. She’d used him as her backup not too long ago, and to be out this soon would be sure to exhaust him. It was the drawback to living as her familiar, and as much as she disliked the thought of him being eternally weary he refused to leave her side.

But little Sophie loved him, because he was strong and handsome and spoke French just like she did, and he’d carry her on his shoulders on days he felt like it. Seras hadn’t seen the child vampire in over ten years, but Sophie still looked wan and fragile as ever.

It had horrified her to hear that Millennium hadn’t been above stealing innocent children off the streets and using them for their sinister purposes. In the FREAK chip’s infancy, it need many tests run in order to tweak out the bad qualities. Chipping was something that the Nazis were wary to do to adults in those days, as even Jews and Gypsies could overpower them if given enough strength.

So they grabbed children from the streets, forced them into facilities and ran tests on them. They put FREAK chips in them and the ones that didn’t die were subjected to more testing. The FREAK chips needed much work and the children were often released into the wilderness to die alone and afraid.

Sophie had been one of these children, taken from the back alley of her parent’s house and chipped by the Doctor in an attempt to create a synthetic vampire. The unperfected chip had turned her frail, and had profound effects on her mind as well. While vampires like Helena could remain in a child’s body and grow in knowledge and experience, Sophie would forever remain a five-year-old, not only physically but mentally as well. The chip had made her mentally imbalanced; she wasn’t a threat to anyone but herself.

Seras didn’t know how many of those pitiful children remained. Many may have died from lack of blood in the wild, while others were adopted into a coven like Sophie, living with a group of other vampires in a symbiotic relationship with each other and hiding from human eyes. Others still may have become a threat and were gunned down by Hellsing branches, listed only in a report filed in the back of a cabinet somewhere. It was saddening.

“Sophie,” she said suddenly, not wanting to dwell on such dark thoughts. “Where’s Jack? I need to speak to him and Bernie.” The girl stopped mid-sentence, twisting around to look at Seras with a puzzled frown.

“Jack… Jack… Oh!” she cried, wiggling out of Pip’s arms. “I know! Come on!” she chirped before disappearing into the grass. Seras nodded at Pip, who dissipated with a soft, tired sigh and took his place back in the back of her mind to continue his interrupted sleep. Her dæmon alighted on the ground, the shadow taking the shape of a wolf as it bounded ahead to keep up with Sophie and relay her whereabouts back to Seras.

Seras moved quickly through the grass, the heat in her face urging her on. The dæmon’s thoughts led her to the village, to an abandoned plant nursery on the edge of the town. She stared at the padlocked door before rapping three times on the rotting surface. A piece of wood slid back and two burgundy eyes looked at her cautiously. She frowned.

“Where’s Kenneth?” she said in confusion. Kenneth was usually the guardsman for the coven’s entrance, no matter where they migrated to. Did something happen in the years between their last visit to the London area? It was entirely possible, but Seras felt her heart clench anyway. She truly liked Kenneth, with his brash attitude and the way he had a new hair color every time she saw him.

                “Depends on who’s asking,” the burgundy eyed male said with an irritating sneer that came through every word. The wind shifted and Seras pushed her bangs out of her eyes, wishing that she’d thought to tell Sophie to wait for her outside. Sometimes she forgot that children never had much foresight in such matters.

She was about to snap something cruel when the door swung open to reveal that Burgundy-eyes was actually a kid of about 17 with a nose ring and a gap in his teeth. He sniffed deeply and Seras realized he’d caught her scent on the wind. She grimaced—this kid was “good enough” for her?! _Fat chance_ , she snarled internally, and she felt her dæmon respond with what was the equivalent to a big mental question mark.

Her shadows darted up as her dæmon rushed protectively to her side, and the kid looked at them with the spark of challenge in his eyes before drawing himself to full height. “You smell good; you know what? I might let you in… if you and I play a little game first,” he said boldly. Seras growled in reply and she could swear someone else did too, but the boy only backed away a step before his face scrunched in anger as well.

“God fucking damnit, boy! I leave you alone for two minutes and—oh,” A tall, dark-skinned man with violet hair and yellow eyes stopped in his tracks and stepped aside as quickly as he’d blocked the door. “It’s only Seras.”

“Only Seras?” she teased and he rolled his eyes in reply, ushering her in. She turned to the boy and gave him a haughty look. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your eye out with blessed silver, boy. Next time you want to mate, choose someone a little closer to your own _status_.” The dæmon hissed in agreement and she turned to flounce off in search of Jack.

As she moved through the dim nursery, passing bodies of both chipped FREAKs and true blood vampires alike, she realized what she’d said. _Where had that come from? I’ve never been so harsh on anyone before. He was just a kid; he probably isn’t more than five years old, if that!_

 _These newer vampires have no sense of honor and etiquette,_ her dæmon sulked. _You should find his dame and complain. That would shape him up for some manners in courtship. He should have realized that challenging you was a useless maneuver. We are much worthier than the likes of a freckle-faced fledgling with body piercings._

 _I know_ , Seras replied soothingly as she stopped in the center of the greenhouse, surrounded by plants and vampires. Jack’s coven was known for adopting FREAKs who wanted to keep on the down low, who had been chipped against their will and forced into a life of bloodshed and sun-fearing. As a result, it was one of the larger covens, and spilling over with vampires from all walks of life.

She waved to a few she knew by name, and ignored the heated glances sent her way by many of the males in the area. However, these seasoned males didn’t dare challenge her like the greenhorn at the door had; they knew that she was far above their strength and status, and trying to entice her into courtship would be a worthless endeavor.

She only caught the eye of one male, who grinned at her from across the room. He was a handsome sort of rogue and he clearly had many years and experience under his belt, if his scars had anything to say about it. He nodded his head to her in greeting and she grinned devilishly, fluffing her hair and looking pretentious without even meaning to. But it was all for show, and the man didn’t even seem to notice her pompous attitude.

 _Flirt! Flirty vixen_ , her dæmon cooed and wiggled against the sides of her mind, debating on whether it wanted to take a chance and meet the other vampire’s dæmon. Seras turned away as she saw the man she was looking for approaching, Sophie bouncing along in his wake.

He was a young man in his twenties, with a floppy messenger’s cap that hung over lanky, choppy brown hair. He wore overalls and a white long sleeved shirt with no shoes, and she could see his sienna eyes glowing in the darkness as he made his way towards her.

“Jack,” she greeted warmly, and her dæmon forgot about the handsome stranger and instead hopped into a mad, frenzied sort of dance with the man’s shadow. Jack clasped Seras’ arms and kissed her cheek, looking pleased and relieved.

“Seras Victoria,” he said, his voice ringing happiness in every word. If he hadn’t been known throughout his time as Jack the Ripper, Seras would have betted her good arm that he’d always been a friendly sort of everyman. “I’m so glad you are come back. It does me heart good to see you alive and well, even after a full decade.”

“You really ought to come by more than once every few years, you know. I miss seeing everyone.” She smiled and shook her head as Jack opened his mouth. “Don’t even say it; I told you twenty years ago why I’d never join the coven, and I’m sticking to those words.” Jack sighed.

“Honestly, Victoria, you’re as stubborn as the King himself. You shouldn’t have had to tell me you was his fledgling; I or’ta known it straight off.” Seras shrugged and looked past him.

“I really have a question for Bernie. Can we have a private place to chat?” Jack nodded and took her hand, leading her back the way he’d come. Sophie grinned, but before she could follow the blonde visitor something caught her gaze and she stared at the wall, her eyes narrowing as she stuck her thumb in her mouth. After a moment of eyeing what looked like plain plastic, she shrugged and skipped off in search of the vampiress who’d adopted her without a care in the world.

* * *

“Seras,” Bernice stood from “her” couch, an old and ratty piece of furniture that for some reason, had been brought from place to place with the coven for as long as anyone could remember. Only Bernice and Jack knew the details on why they insisted on having the couch with them, and they’d both sworn to never tell another soul. Seras thought that it may have been the place they’d fallen in love at; her dæmon thought there might be a dead body or some jewels hidden in the cushions.

The dæmon and Bernice’s shadows (and presumably _her_ dæmon, although Seras was never sure as such a thing wasn’t talked about much in vampire society) moved up the wall and began to play a strange version of tag while Seras took an honored seat on the couch next to Bernice.

Bernie, as she was called by many, was a vampire who had lost track of her age around three hundred years ago. She insisted she wasn’t any real race, but most of the coven called her Filipino if someone asked about her. She was Jack’s wife, and the matriarchal head of the coven as a result. Everyone listened to her just as they would Jack; her word was law. It was her that saved Seras from being killed by the coven over twenty years ago, and Seras never forgot that she “owed her one”.

“How are you,” Seras asked sincerely, looking at the bags and aged look on her friend’s face. The last time they’d met, a group of rogue vampires had fought against the coven, and eventually Hellsing. Bernice’s former fledgling had been killed in the crossfire, and although they weren’t bonded the vampiress had felt the loss as if it had been her blood-and-bone child.

Seras had understood then that a fledgling was one of the closest things a vampire had akin to family, and while some vampires fell in love and mated their fledglings as the years passed, others simply kept a close parent-child bond with them. One way or the other, a loss of a Childe, even just a former Childe, was a time for mourning just as it would be for a human to lose a beloved family member. It had made her wonder sometimes what Alucard would have done if he had lost her; if he was even capable of grieving for the loss of another’s life.

“I am well,” Bernie said with a sigh, looking away. “My heart aches, but time heals all troubles, as they say. I am able to move forward, but coming back here has been… hard.” She colored and looked at her hands, folded demurely in her lap. “I must confess—even though I missed your company, I urged Jack to stay away from this land for a while yet. I had to steel myself for reopened wounds.”

“I’m not going to say that I understand, because I don’t.” Seras put a hand on top of Bernie’s, rubbing gently. “I’ve never had a fledgling, but I have lost family before. Somehow, I’m sure it’s not entirely the same.” The woman nodded.

“It is the same, and yet not,” she said dismissively. “But I knew that you would know when we had returned, and I’ve been awaiting your visit.” She smiled and looked at Seras. “Why did you not come before now?”

“Well, it’s my….” Seras looked at the ceiling, where the moon was still visible through the plastic. “Cycle,” she whispered bashfully. Jack looked over with a smug grin from his place near the door, watching out for vampires who were trying to come through to the inner chamber of the greenhouse and waving them away.

“I heard what happened to my doorman in training,” he said mockingly. “He was put in his place.” Bernie raised an eyebrow and Seras couldn’t help but huff indignantly, her dæmon flitting back to her side for a moment’s support.

“I should have told his dame,” she quoted the dæmon’s words and felt its resounding agreement ringing in her mind. Jack laughed again, taking off his cap and scratching the matted hair. Seras tried to keep her nose from crinkling—she hated the general air of dinge about the coven, and she knew they didn’t get the chance to bathe every day like she did.

“She knows already, I’m sure. It’s hot new among the vampires now. How some yearling tried to challenge the King’s fledgling into courtship.” Bernie tittered, a hand over her mouth. Seras sniffed and gave a one-armed shrug before turning back to the woman sitting beside her on the couch.

“Bernie, the ice bath isn’t working anymore,” she said, trying to keep the whine out of her voice. “It’s getting pretty bad; I’m sweating even now,” she declared, one hand wiping her brow. “What should I do?”

“Well, I’m… I’m not sure, Seras.” Bernie looked at Jack, who shrugged and gave Seras a sympathizing tut.

“I remember me own courtship days,” he said empathetically. “After Bernie challenged me, and the heat began. It was torture.” He gave her a pained look. “I feel for you, truly I do.” Seras nodded, accepting his compassion and he left the room to give the girls some privacy, no doubt uncomfortable as he remembered his own impassioned youth.

“Seras, you’re not getting younger,” Bernie started slowly, as if afraid of upsetting the blonde. “I think that maybe your body is telling you that it’s high time to make a choice.” She looked out the open door at the vampires milling about. A few Children ran past the door, trying to dissolve enough to go through it. One didn’t make it fully and bonked his nose, rubbing it to the chorus of laughter from his friends. A few truebloods wrestled each other, their dæmons taking the form of wolves and rolling around in the dust with each other. A chipped FREAK walked past and stopped to watch the spectacle and cheer one vampire on before continuing her way.

“There are, I’m sure, a few eligible matches out there. You should try to look for one. You don’t have to choose one straight away, you know.” She smiled impishly. “Flirt around, get a few challengers, and then they have to do the rest before real courtship can begin.” She cleared her throat, looking sheepish. “I’m sure your… your _dæmon_ has taught you about how it works?” She whispered the word as if it were cursed.

Vampires didn’t usually approach the subject of dæmons with each other. It wasn’t forbidden or uncouth to speak of them, but it did walk the border between polite and impolite conversation. Seras hadn’t been told this, but it came instinctively to her.

A dæmon was your personal companion, born of your own soul. No one else but yourself could understand it. Oh, you could ask your dæmon about others, and they’d probably tell you, but it was nearly impolite to ask vampires about it. Besides, dæmons only came together and meshed as one when vampires mated, and that was something more intimate than could be explained away by words. So all around, it was better to just skirt around the subject altogether.

“Yes, I’m well aware of it,” Seras said, smiling to show that she wasn’t offended. Bernie relaxed and nodded as her shadows moved away from her and back to the wall. “But, I’m—well, I think—I mean, um…” Seras wasn’t sure how to explain to Bernie that her dæmon thought her _master_ was attracted to her. “I think that it might be hard for challengers to win, if a certain person gets involved,” she finally blurted out.

“Police Girl.” The dark voice rang out in the space and Seras jumped. Bernie didn’t react so outwardly, but her eyes widened and Jack was there in a moment’s notice, feeling his mate’s sudden anxiety. “Enough chatter.”

“Master!” Seras jumped up off the couch and backed away, dæmon jumping from the wall to become a wildcat and wrapping around her legs in a form that shifted between 2D and 3D at an alarming rate. “Did-did you follow me!?” she screeched angrily as she watched Alucard materialize from the wall. Her cheeks turned dark red as she realized he must have been eavesdropping. “Were you _listening_ to us?!”

Jack and Bernie, both old and powerful in their own right, pretended not to notice Seras’ major lack of etiquette and both vampires stepped into a low bow, Bernie bringing the edge of her skirt up in a curtsy as well. Alucard glanced at them before leaning over and grabbing Seras’ arm, twisting it and making her cry out. She allowed herself a yelp of pain before gritting her teeth.

“Pardon me, Jack. I’d love to catch up on your adventures, but my fledgling and I have some business to discuss before I allow her to go after something as pitiful as the males in that room.” He dissipated, forcefully bringing Seras with him and the leaders of the coven watched helplessly as the two royals vanished.

“Bloody hell,” Jack muttered, scratching his head as an insect crawled out from under his hat. “I hope the poor kid makes it alright.”

“She will,” Bernie said, although her voice wavered slightly. “I didn’t know he was back, did you?” She turned and buried her face in her mate’s chest, shaking as the residual power of the ancient vampire left slowly. He rubbed her shoulders, looking at the spot where they’d vanished.

“No fucking clue.”

* * *

“Let me go!” Alucard finally released his grip on his fledgling and she stumbled backwards, nearly falling. He’d taken her away from the village nursery, back to the endlessly rolling hills that dotted the countryside. He watched her gather her balance and jump away from him, her movements cagey as she kept herself out of his reach. “What the hell?!” she snapped, rage swimming in her eyes.

“I should be asking the same thing,” he retorted, his eyes narrowing as he took in her form. Apparently, the police girl had a rebellious streak. “May I ask _why_ you were in there? You clearly don’t belong to their ranks,” he added.

“Because they’re my friends!” she shouted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He sneered and she bent closer to the ground, clearly on the offensive. “I don’t need your permission to go out. Sir Integra’s given me that already.” She wisely left the “because her words usurp yours” silent.

“I see,” he purred viciously. “And you went there, considering the vague possibility that you could find yourself a companion there, perhaps?” She flinched and he grinned. “Ah, so that’s what it was.”

“You don’t know anything,” she smarted off, looking away. “If I want to go find myself a mate, I’ll do it. I don’t need anyone’s help, not even J—the coven’s.” She was outwardly calm, but her dæmon had all but glued itself to her legs, it was wrapped up so tightly around her. She could feel its defiance, but also the slight tremor of fear coming from its mind.

“Oh?” He tilted his head, letting his glasses slip to scrutinize her over the rims. “And you think one of those measly weaklings in there is _suitable_ for you? Are you purposely aiming low, or have you been jilted already for being so tenderhearted?”

She gasped and became teary-eyed, hurt by his words. He’d meant them to cut her, but standing under her watery gaze he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Her shadows moved up her legs and pulled around her body protectively, and she hugged herself, backing away another step.

 _You’re a dick, you know_ , his dæmon spat as it wiggled around his feet, angered by its host’s brash, uncaring attitude toward the little blonde. _Why do you have to say things that you know will make her cry?_

He never got the chance to answer before he was caught off guard by a well-aimed punch to his jaw. He flew back and landed on the ground with a thump, his head cracking as it slammed into the hard earth. He hissed in pain and touched his broken jaw with the tips of his fingers, feeling as it healed itself back seamlessly. His dæmon—as taken by surprise as he was— jumped to curl around his midsection as shadows, instinctively protecting his major organs.

Above him, Seras heaved with barely suppressed fury as she watched him heal, her eyes glowing almost black in her anger. Her shadows were whipping about her body, her arm completely dissolved and her hair moving it its own wind. She looked truly fearsome.

“You— _you son of a bitch!_ ” she howled, stamping her foot on the ground in sheer frustration. “I’ve never been jilted before in my life, and I—I don’t have to listen to you, and you know what, _Master_? I’m going to march myself back there, and I’m going to find me a mate, and there’s not a damn thing you can say about it!”

After getting over the astonishment that anyone, let alone a subservient vampire, would dare to speak to him that way, Alucard rose from the earth, dust falling off his clothing as his own shadows began to writhe hideously in wrath. His hair lengthened and meshed with the shadows, and for once his dæmon was silent on the matter, fuming over her complete lack of propriety. He reached out and she tried to twist away from him, but he was much faster and grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her as he dragged her towards him.

“You will bow to my will! And if I say that you will not choose a mate from those pathetic excuses, then you will bend before me and submit!” he shouted, each word gripped in a raspy growl. She thrashed in his hold, their noses inches apart as he waited for her to obey him and become submissive. When she didn’t do so, his last hold on patience flew out the window and he all but screamed in her face. “ _I am your Master!_ ”

“ _Well maybe it’s time for that to change_!” she shouted back with equal force, pushing herself up on the balls of her feet to match his height. His grip tightened more, nails biting her tender flesh. She didn’t scream, but her eyes darted to the side before she looked back at him insolently.

“Perhaps it is,” he agreed, his former pseudo-calm regained. He released her suddenly and she didn’t stumble this time, but he saw her shadows rubbing her arm behind her back, and knew that even if she didn’t cry out he had hurt her. She met his gaze, her eyes flitting from one eye to the other before she scowled and turned on her heel.

“I’m going back,” she announced, as if nothing had happened. He glowered for a moment before his dæmon urged him into action, trying to regain some semblance of the dominance he’d held before. This was why he’d never accepted a challenge before in order to mate; to do so would mean to bend to another’s will, and he never willingly put himself in such a situation, even for such a short period of time.

“You will not,” he argued, grabbing for her again. She was ready for him this time, and twirled out of his reach, keeping her back away from him as they began to circle each other. She looked defensive and cautious, while he was powerful and oppressive. However, it seemed to be that they were both at a standstill, unable to react to the other and unsure of _how_ to react to the situation as a whole.

“You can’t stop me!” she shouted suddenly, feinting to the left. He made a lunge for her and she almost made it, leaping out of his arms. He caught her ankle and they both went crashing to the ground. Seras scrambled to her feet first, her mind becoming panicked as she wondered if he’d actually hunt her down and punish her for being so rebellious. Her dæmon didn’t seem to care, only interested in getting Seras out of her master’s clutches. Her shadows slipped and slid out of his gloved hands, pushing his shadows away as her feet caught hold in the dusty earth of the field. “You’re right! I’m going to find someone that I’ll be with for eternity, and I bet he’s in that greenhouse right now!”

“Idiot!” he countered, dissipating and reforming in front of her, forcing her to stop short and turn to avoid his hands. He caged her in, moving faster than she could and keeping her in a strange sort of dance for freedom. “Those men couldn’t provide for you, or protect you like a proper vampire would!”

“Oh, you mean like _you_?” she jeered, keeping just out of reach. Her dæmon was a wolf again, stretching out along the flat ground and snarling at his shadows, hackles raised. “I’m sorry Master, but not every vampire can be just like you. Besides, you couldn’t provide for me anyway!”

“Foolish girl! I have wealth the likes of which you’ve never seen!” he shouted incredulously, wondering where she’d even gotten such a notion. She flipped her hair and scoffed.

“What does it matter? You don’t care for me, and you never will!”

“I never said that!” he barked, his hands balling into fists as exasperation burned through his veins. Why, oh why couldn’t it be that vampires could change _anyone_ , regardless of gender? Then he’d have made a male vampire, and all this could have been avoided. But no, even the Devil had to shortchange him, and force him to create females of his kind. Tenderhearted, fickle, vexing females!

However, his words made her stop in her tracks, her shadows falling flat and eyes widening. She gaped for a moment before finding her voice.

“W-what?” He blinked at her before his dæmon nudged him uneasily and he understood. The way he’d said it, it’d made it sound like he’d just admitting to doing something as silly as caring for her! But that was unfounded—idiotic—not…. But no matter how he voiced it in his mind, he couldn’t seem to get the words past his lips. His dæmon was smugly settled in his mind, watching Seras for her reaction.

“Don’t read into that,” he finally grumbled. “You females are all alike.” She continued to stare at him, her expression unfathomable. It seemed like she was struggling internally and he watched her hand rise. She bit her index finger and he smelled the tang of blood, his body reacting instinctively to the scent. She licked her finger absently before smiling, her eyes peering at him from beneath her lashes.

“Do you want to try your hand?” she asked, almost playfully. “You have as much of a chance as the rest of them, you know.” His mind blanked, shoulders sagging slightly. She was _challenging_ him? He knew that he should blow her off; after all, she was only a weak servant vampire. He was the most powerful Nosferatu in the world. “As much of a chance”? He’d destroy any competition in his way without a second glance. But he wouldn’t, because he wouldn’t accept such a puny girl’s challenge.

 _So she’s challenging you, and you’d rather hand her off to another?_ His dæmon mused. _Interesting. And you called her fickle._ Alucard gritted his teeth, fangs rubbing together as he considered it. He wouldn’t dare just hand Seras to another male, but he wouldn’t accept such a stupid challenge. However, if he refused and then became angry when she moved on, his pride and honesty would be at stake. _Damned if you do, damned if you don’t_ , his dæmon mocked. _Story of your life, isn’t it?_

* * *

 _Did I really just challenge him? I must be mental_! Seras gulped as she watched her master. She hadn’t meant to actually go through with it and challenge him, but it had slipped out amidst her anger and confusion (with a healthy push from her dæmon). Now, it was up to him to accept or decline her spoken dare. If he accepted, he’d be thrown in the mix with the other males vying for the grand prize: Seras herself. But she doubted that he’d accept her. She was weak in his eyes, and he wouldn’t bend so low as to take a servant vampire as his lifelong consort.

 _Don’t be too hasty,_ her dæmon purred in excitement as it watched the scene unfold. _He seems to be considering it_. Seras looked to see that the dæmon was right. Alucard was standing still, locked in a staredown with his boots. She could see his eyes were blank, and she knew he must be consulting his dæmon on the matter. She briefly wondered if the dæmon was telling him to go for it, or shying away from Seras. She looked away, wondering how long it would take him to think. She wanted to be back at the coven before sunrise, to find a few other males she wouldn’t mind being with for eternity. The challenges would weed out the unworthy, and in the end only the strongest, boldest, most intelligent males would be left to court her. In the end, it would come down to her choosing between the survivors for the one she wanted most.

“I wouldn’t dare accept the challenge of a fledgling,” he said at length. She looked back to see him glaring at her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. She frowned, unsure of what to do. It wasn’t really a “no”, or at least, her instincts were telling her that it wasn’t a proper rejection. How was she supposed to react? She had nothing to draw on, and silently turned to her dæmon for advice.

 _I think-I think you should drink his blood now_ , the dæmon said hesitantly, and its voice pensive. _You were right earlier; it’s high time you become your own vampire. You really have no need for a master anymore. You can survive on your own, once you choose a proper spouse to protect you._

Seras swallowed, her mouth dry at the thought of drinking her master’s blood. She’d refused him before, decades ago, when she was still fairly new. She’d felt the need to keep her bond with him. Even now, the thought of losing the mental connection they shared made her feel lonely and melancholic.

 _He feels the same way. But it’s time to act_ , her dæmon said in a comforting, yet firm tone. Seras frowned and licked her lips, wondering if she should listen to the creature in her mind. She sighed and knew in her heart that it would be for the best. Just like she knew keeping the bond would benefit her back then, now she knew that keeping it would only cause trouble. While they were sire and fledgling, he would always feel a possessive hold on her. That needed to be broken, otherwise the competing males wouldn’t stand a chance.

She looked up at him, catching his gaze and her own hardened into what she hoped was a confident, bold look. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she announced her decision to him.

“I want to drink your blood now, and be free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realized how long this chapter was compared to the others. When you go months between postings, there's a lot of things you forget about!


	6. The Weariness of Independence

Their world was silence. Seras was standing completely still, her expression one of utmost seriousness. She wasn’t even sure if Alucard was breathing. She wished that his hat wasn’t throwing his face into the shadow; it was hard to tell what he was thinking. However, she knew that if she looked, it would be the same expressionless mask he always wore during trying emotional times that he was forced to become a part of.

After some time passed and he still didn’t move, she cleared her throat self-consciously, taking a guarded step towards him. He moved then, his head jerking up to put her in his sights. The moonlight from the orb above them lit his sunglasses, turning them into bright circles surrounded by darkness.

“Well…” she started, feeling the color rush to her face. “It’ll be better if you cooperated.” She truly hoped he wouldn’t put up any sort of fight, and make her force the blood out of him. She wasn’t sure that she wanted her freedom enough to deal with that sort of fuss. Moving slightly, she felt Sir Integra’s gun poke the side of her thigh and she resisted the urge to look down. She’d forgotten about the weapon.

She quickly wracked her brain, coming up with a plan. If he tried to attack her or keep her from taking her independence, she’d shoot him somewhere… an artery, perhaps. He’d bleed out enough before he healed; surely, _surely_ there would be enough blood from a major artery that she could drink and be free without having to rip him open with her fangs in a struggle. Not to mention the added help of the bullets—powerful vampire or not, it always took longer to heal from blessed silver.

“If that’s what you wish, I won’t fight you.” The words took Seras by surprise; she was sure he’d at least protest. But he was just… standing there, looking at her. She fidgeted, waiting for some sort of malefic aura or hate-filled curse to come from him, but nothing happened. She froze, having never been in a situation like this before. What had changed? Hadn’t he been angry at her? What was she supposed to do?

 _Just go do it,_ her dæmon grumbled. _You can’t expect him to throw a tantrum when you say things like that. After all, he asked first—if he went back on it now, he’d be just as fickle as you. And he’d never want anyone to think that way about him, even if he felt it inside._

 ** _Does_** _he feel it inside_? Seras replied uncertainly, eyeing him askance as her mind’s focus turned more toward her dæmon, which sounded as sure as ever, despite her own misgivings. The dæmon hummed in thought and she felt what would have been a mental shrug.

 _I dunno. I can’t see inside his mind. But I think he might; otherwise, why would he have to consider it for such a long time before answering?_ Seras sighed and put the thought out of her mind. She’d already declared it, anyway. No going back now. She set off to close the space between them, feeling more like she was a condemned woman headed to the gallows rather than a servant heading for freedom. She didn’t want to think about what would happen afterwards; if he’d accept her challenge or not. It was too frightening to consider, and she would be more likely to balk and run away if she kept thinking about it.

 _I’m afraid,_ she whispered to her dæmon, although whispering in her own mind was a rather unnecessary thing.

 _I am too, actually_ , the dæmon replied in the same hushed tones. _It’s rather fascinating._ Seras gulped as she came close enough to see the detail in the fabric of his shirt, and the thin design of the stitches on his boots. She wasn’t sure what she’d do once she was there, but the time was growing near and she hoped that he couldn’t see the terror in her eyes as she tried to prepare herself for whatever would happen.

* * *

He watched her walk slowly towards him, her eyes trained on his face as she took one step at a time. He wondered if she was deliberately trying to draw out the whole process, although he highly doubted it. Her face was calm and collected, but when her eyes lit up in the light for a brief moment he saw the trepidation swimming in the crimson depths.

His dæmon was doing a mental tap dance around his mind, and for once he wished his heart could beat, so that the rapid staccato would ease the ache in his torso. It was nervous and upset and something so very near frightened that it would have been disgusting, had he not been focusing on more important things. He didn’t dwell on the thought—his dæmon was just reacting to the concoction of emotions that were trickling across their bond from his fledgling’s mind.

She walked closer and he saw her glance down his body, at his shirt, boots, and then back up to his face again. She was breathing heavily, her eyes boring into his although he wasn’t sure if she could see them behind his glasses. Finally she reached the point where the tips of their boots touched and she stopped, her shoulders catching as her breath hitched. He realized that somewhere along the way, he’d stopped breathing altogether, although the thought didn’t bother him very much. He’d been trying to avoid breathing in her scent all night—it wasn’t like he needed to push air into his lungs anyway, useless things.

She tilted her head up to look at him and he was struck again with how _tiny_ she was. For some odd reason, he kept forgetting that fact; most likely because her loud mouth and personality made her seem larger. But she was small and fragile, or at least, physically she seemed that way. He could crush her neck in one hand—as many times as he’d grabbed her collar or choked her to make a point, he was very surprised that he hadn’t.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by two hands on his face and he jerked, slightly taken aback as she slid his glasses off. He wanted to ask what she was doing, but something in him couldn’t help but stay silent and watch her—his dæmon was on edge, nearly trembling in his mind with anxiety over what she’d do next. He wouldn’t have been able to guess; she was such a fascinating creature, always taking him by surprise with her actions and emotions.

She seemed to study them closely, her fingers running across the custom-made frames. She peered through them, finally giving up and slipping them on. They engulfed her face and made her look even smaller, and he stared at how visibly it altered her, throwing her facial structure into a new light. Her brow knitted and she glanced up at the moon, frowning.

“They’re more useful in sunlight,” he explained, unsure of why he felt the need to defend his own glasses. He knew she was seeing the darkened world, the moon cast into a deep shadow by the lenses. After all, they were coated with the same substance as protective welding glasses.

At night, it didn’t do much except make everything a bit darker; if a human were to look through them, they would be unable to see much at all, although a vampire would. But in the daylight, the lenses became very beneficial, protecting his sensitive eyes from the harsh sun. They’d been made for him specifically by the Hellsing family, as a way to go on daylight missions without being compromised. He’d grown rather fond of them, even if they were given to him by the people who’d crushed his empire and stolen his freedom. Besides, he wasn’t an idiot; he knew a good thing when he saw it.

“I can see that,” she answered, sounding almost normal. But there was a slight strain to her tone and he knew she was just stalling. Finally she took the glasses off and stuck them in the outer pocket of his overcoat. She glanced up and saw his inquiring stare. “I hate not seeing your eyes, especially at moments like this. It makes me nervous,” she stated.

He didn’t answer, but he could tell she wasn’t looking for one. She tilted her head, her mouth opening slightly as she looked at his neck, which was level with her eyes. She frowned even more and the next thing he knew, she was tugging his cravat off and stuffing it into his hand. She looked with a more technical eye at his neck before working on the top buttons of his shirt next, clearly working out in her mind how she was going to bite him.

He remained still as she fumbled with the buttons, cursing under her breath as her arm kept shifting from a hand shape to an assortment of wild shadows. She was too nervous to keep her focus on her arm, and it showed.

She finally managed to get the first three buttons and tugged at his shirt, making it fall away from his neck. The night air hit his collarbone and he tensed, unused to the feeling. She spared him a quick glance when she felt his muscles coil beneath her fingers and her nails bit into his arm as she grabbed his shoulders. She leaned in… and stood on her tiptoes… and got back down before trying another angle. Finally she growled under her breath and pulled on him.

“You’re just going to have to lean down,” she informed him curtly. “I can’t reach where I need to bite.” He obligingly bent slightly at the waist, his eyes level with hers. He took the time to stuff his cravat into his pocket next to his glasses and tilted his head slightly. Part of him wished that she’d just get it over with, but his dæmon was still buzzing in his mind for some odd reason.

She nodded and stepped closer, bending her head towards his neck. She hovered for a moment and he heard her swallow hard, the sound muffled. “Here goes,” she whispered, and her breath wafted across the newly exposed skin. He felt her mind more acutely than he’d ever before—perhaps it was because he knew that in a moment she wouldn’t been connected to him anymore. _I’m going to try to keep from hurting him_ , she was thinking, and he had barely a moment for her thought to register in his mind before she bit down.

It was a clean bite, her fangs sliding firmly through his skin and muscle to reach the vein. Her one hand tightened on his arm painfully, the other had long since dissolved into shadow. She held him still as she began to drink, choking slightly as the blood filled her mouth faster than she could swallow.

He waited for the overwhelming pleasure to burn through his nerves, but it didn’t come. Instead, his body went numb with a calming, overwhelming feeling of euphoria and a gentling wave of peace. With it came a burning sensation that spread throughout his body and centered in the place where his heart should have been, releasing intense rolls of a foreign emotion through his entire being. They were slow, deep currents of something that he’d never experienced before, and it was shocking and passionate and it felt _right._

He was certain that he’d never felt anything like it before in his life; but at the same time, something within his soul cried out at the familiarity of it, telling him that he’d known something other than hate and torturous agony. It came from a place far, far in his past, but he had nothing in his centuries’ worth of memories to relate it to.

His eyes closed and his legs shook, making it hard to keep standing. He slumped against her, letting her hold the brunt of his weight as he trembled under the onslaught of the strange feelings. He knew that his body should have begun to grow cold as she drank the unlife from him, but the scorching sensations kept him cozy and warm from the inside out. He couldn’t understand; he’d been bitten before by females, but this had never happened before. Was it something that only creators and fledglings felt, something that eased the transition from bonded to unbound?

Like a headache that pounded itself out of existence, their bond also disintegrated. With every passing gulp he heard from her throat, he could feel a little less of her mind. His dæmon was writhing against the sides of his mind, purring deeply at the sensations he felt. Unlike him, the dæmon didn’t seem to be bothered by the strangeness, the… abnormality of the whole situation. Strangely, it set him at ease more than he thought it would.

Finally she released him with a gasp, letting go and sinking to her knees. He fell back, no longer held up by her body. He landed on the ground, feeling the wound in his throat close up slowly, weakened by lack of blood. His stomach twisted in hunger, another indication that she’d taken a lot from him. He lay back and looked at the sky, the emotion working its way out of his system and leaving him with the normal void. For some reason, the minute it vanished he wanted it back, however fleetingly.

His dæmon settled and he came back to himself, sitting up and putting a hand on his throat to check the wound. He staunched it with his fingers, feeling the blood soak into his gloves and his shadows moving over to drink it, leaving it white as before. The skin formed anew and he buttoned his shirt back, pulling the cravat from his pocket and tying it expertly before pulling his coat back around his shoulders.

The entire time he was putting himself to rights, Seras had been kneeling, her arms wrapped around her stomach as she bent over onto her knees, panting and gasping. He didn’t look at her until she began to scream, her eyes flying closed and face twisting in agony. He watched her, knowing the pain she went through. It was always so difficult, the first time, when the final changes were made to her body. If there was ever any doubt that she wasn’t human, it was long gone now.

Her shadows tensed and then became wild as her voice broke and she curled in on herself. His dæmon slithered on the ground, coming close to her but not touching. He hissed and the shadows retreated, but he still felt its need to comfort the young woman. _Revolting, sympathetic creature_ , he snarled inwardly, but the dæmon didn’t even flinch.

There was a wet, cracking noise and he watched with interest as her shadow became bone, muscles pulling their way tautly over the framework before sinew and skin were formed on top. A few shadows skirted around to form nails and lines were etched into the palm, which answered its body’s commands for the first time in thirty years and closed into a fist. The muscles in her back rolled as her body was wracked with spasms as nerves were destroyed and made new again, and finally it was finished. She began to calm down, choking and sobbing, rocking herself.

“It’s over now, Seras,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse. She looked up, her crimson eyes glistening with dark tears. “Stop your sniveling. Everyone goes through it; you aren’t the only one who’s had limbs grow back during your final transformation.”

“Transformation?” she murmured, wincing as she bent her body upright and stood on shaky legs, like a newborn fawn. She wiped her eyes before she realized that her arm was back. She stared at it, all pain seemingly forgotten as she flexed it, wiggling the fingers. Then she clapped both hands over her ears, shrieking in alarm. “What’s that?!”

Alucard tilted his head to listen, and suddenly realized what she heard.

“It’s London,” he jeered. “It’s not like you’ve never heard it before.” Seras grimaced.

“It’s so _loud_ , though.” She took one hand off her ear and immediately put it back on as someone’s car alarm screamed in the night. “Ouch!”

“You will become used to it,” he murmured, forcing her hands off her ears. “You need sleep, now. When you wake, your body will have adjusted to the louder sounds, the heightened smells, the brighter lights….” Even though he wasn’t her master anymore, instinct still warned him to keep a close watch over her until she had a good day’s rest. She was very vulnerable at this point—she was overwhelmed with her new, enhanced senses. If she’d thought her sense of sight and hearing were good before, then she was in for a very big surprise.

“But I need to go back,” she protested, turning in his arms. He shook his head and she slumped against him, wincing at the moonlight. “I can’t even see. It’s so bright, it’s brighter than sunlight.”

“No, you just need sleep,” he repeated. “Go and look for your men tomorrow night. It’s time to go home now,” he proclaimed. She sighed and nodded, and he tightened his grip on her as he phased them away.

Bypassing the foyers and corridors, he reformed them in her bedchambers. Her things were undisturbed, although the open door meant that sometime in the night, someone had come in and cleaned. He ignored the bucket of chilled blood on her nightstand, instead pushing her lightly in the direction of her coffin.

She sighed and wobbled her way over to the casket, nearly falling in before she grabbed hold of the lid and lay it down. Sitting on top, she bent down and tried to still her shaking hands long enough to untie the laces of her boots. He watched her fingers slip and slide as they tried to grab the thin strings, and was wondering if he should step in when she caught them and deftly untied them. Her new arm seemed to be a little clunky on her, and he knew she was getting used to the lack of shadows that she’d been using as a makeshift limb for the past few decades.

She placed her shoes to the side and pulled off her gloves and socks before laying down, still dressed in her uniform. He hesitated for only a second or two before turning to leave, sure that she would obey him and get some much-needed sleep. Depending on her stamina, she would probably sleep all day and at most half of the next night before waking up feeling normal.

“Alucard.” The name was foreign sounding, coming from her lips. He looked back to see her sitting up slightly, watching him with exhaustion written across her face. He waited and she lay back down with a huff, her arm dangling off the side. “Good night.” He was certain she was going to say more, but she remained silent.

“Good day,” he replied quietly before turning to leave. She didn’t stop him and he walked a few steps before realizing that she’d taken more than she’d needed. He was very tired himself. He groaned quietly and dissipated, reforming in his chair. His food was waiting and he poured a glass of blood, draining it and two more before slacking up. He slumped down in the chair, curling up for a long rest.

He, too, would sleep. Then tomorrow, he’d get up and explain what had happened to his master. Surely as a fellow female, she could talk some reason into Seras where he couldn’t. Now that she was a full vampiress, there would be a new set of rules and regulations that she would have to follow, or she’d be at Hellsing’s mercy.

The sun rose above the horizon and pale light illuminated the swirling patterns of dust in his chambers. He watched them contently, sipping his fifth glass of wine. When it was empty, he placed it upside-down to the side and listened to the strange, nearly unfamiliar quiet in his mind. He wasn’t sure what to think of it, any more than he was sure about the strange, familiar-yet-not feeling that had flowed in his veins as she drained him.

 _I wonder what that was,_ he mused, outwardly silent. His dæmon stirred quietly in his mind, curling around the thought and dispersing it.

 _Don’t worry about it_ , was the reply. _If I told you what it was, you wouldn’t be happy. And you need to sleep; being unhappy and bewildered isn’t something you need at the moment._ It sounded motherly, like it was planning on tucking him in and singing a lullaby before going to sleep itself. At the thought, the dæmon chuckled and hummed a tune that he’d thought he’d forgotten many years ago. He listened to it, the melody tumbling in his head and filling the space where a policewoman’s mind once was.

He fell asleep, still weary from blood loss, his fingers tapping out an ancient rhythm until his head dropped onto his chest and his body moved no more.

 


	7. Evaluation Day

Seras awoke with a start, her stomach pained. She curled her knees up, tucking her arms around her midsection and scrunching her face as the tremor wracked her body. _Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!_ She shook her head and coughed, hurting. What was going on? Why did she feel such pain? It was cramping, harsh cramping, and the air was pressing down on her. She was going to die; she was going to be crushed by the air pressure!

The feeling became too much, though the spasms in her belly eased somewhat, and she floated away again, her cheeks burning feverishly.

In her mind, she was in her old home, looking with interest at the blood splattered pictures on the walls. Her parents were lying dead in the room, but the gruesome sight didn’t bother her as much as it would have if this wasn’t a dream. Besides, she’d seen much worse in her years as a vampire. Instead, she felt a fleeting wish that those pictures still existed somewhere, and that she’d be able to find a way to get to them. Perhaps Sir Integra would know.

Turning to the closet, she knew there was a mirror just inside the door. Ignoring her mother’s battered corpse, she opened the door and smiled gravely at her reflection in the mirror. Her dæmon mimicked her and she posed her question.

“Do you think these pictures still exist?” she asked, before realizing what was wrong. The Seras in the mirror copied her words silently, and then stood and waited, her face perplexed. Her heart dropped into her gut and she asked again, feeling panic rise in her mind. “What?!” There was no dæmon! It was only a real reflection!

Seras recoiled, nearly throwing up in her disgust. Now she realized why she never liked to watch humans looking in the mirror anymore. This—this _abomination_ ; this empty, soulless doppelgänger! This was _wrong_ , it was so terribly, terribly _wrong_. Her reflection should have laughed and teased, eyes shining in mirth as it spoke with Seras’ voice, but somehow was _not_ her voice at the same time; the timbre correct, but in different tones with different inflictions. This was a pale, twisted creature that she saw before her; it had no soul, nothing to endear it to her. Where was her own true companion, the other half of her soul that was her, and yet wasn’t?

She stumbled back, shaking her head as she looked around the room. She was lost; she had no idea where to go. She was _alone_ , and suddenly she turned and ran from this horrifying nightmare. She burst through the front door and fell into a fire, screeching in fear and pain before standing up amidst the flames, turning circles. It was London, the London of her nightmares, when the Nazis won and no one was left alive, except for her. But the Nazis weren’t here now; there was only her, with no dæmon, forlorn and frightened.

The flames licked her body and it was hot, too hot, but she was a vampire and as quickly as her body burned it was franticly healing itself. It was like what she’d always heard Hell to be, sitting in the orphanage chapel during Mass and bored out of her wits. As quickly as she thought it the orphanage director was there, staring down from his pulpit where he’d preached every Sunday. The magistrate and Mother Superior were there too, glaring down at her balefully—though to be honest the woman’s eyes held pity for her plight.

“Guilty! Sinner!” the headmaster proclaimed, pointing his thick, meaty finger at her. “Those who lie and murder and let vampires eat their souls will burn in the lake of fire!”

“I have my soul!” she protested feebly, although without her dæmon slithering up her legs comfortingly she felt as though she were missing a big part of it. “I’m not bad!”

“And there will be a great wailing and gnashing of teeth,” the magistrate replied boldly, shaking his head and tsking. “But no one listens to the cries of a sinner who knew what she was getting into.”

“I’ll say a prayer for you,” Mother Superior added.

“Bugger you will!” Seras shouted, angry. They _never_ listened to her; not then, and not now! “Forget that, and help me up out of this fire!” They all shook their heads, clucking and looking pityingly at her while quoting more verses about fiery lakes and sinners who don’t listen to God. “I’m telling the truth! I’ve not given my soul away to a vampire!” she stomped her foot and cried, frustrated.

The flames rose and she screamed as the looming faces of the three became engulfed and melted, eyeballs falling out and bouncing along the ground and the skulls remaining behind to laugh, teeth chattering loosely. She backed away and her back was scorched; she stumbled forward blindly and her hair caught fire. She slapped the flames away from her, the stench of burning skin and hair filling the air.

She swung out in a panic, trying to physically keep the flames away from her body, and her hand collided with something hard, even though there was nothing but air. She yelped and cradled her fingers, the dream tilting and falling out of focus, leaving her suspended in a void of orange and red and black.

She awoke with a cry this time, her hand having hit the side of her coffin as she flailed in her panicked dream-state. Her broken fingers reset themselves and her face was overheated, her body soaked with sweat and brain burning alive. She threw open her coffin lid, retching as the cold air of the basement hit her like a ton of bricks and she could do more than roll out of her coffin and try to stand. She pulled herself over the lip of the tub and was covered in ice, shocking her system and freezing her muscles. She didn’t try to breathe, instead every part of her focused on moving as little as possible as her roasted flesh cooled.

She could have lain there for minutes, hours, or even days. But finally she was able to think sanely and sluggishly moved up to break the surface of the ice, which hadn’t had enough time to melt into water yet. She gazed blearily about the room, wondering what was different. Then she realized that her dæmon still had not come, and she felt the same gut-wrenching terror that she had in her dream.

How did you call a dæmon? She couldn’t feel it in her mind, and it had no title to speak of, other than “my dæmon”. But the instant she thought about it, it was there in her mind and outside of it, resting in the shining porcelain lip of the tub. Seras felt the most overwhelming sense of relief, her heart singing. She wasn’t alone after all.

“Where would I go?” it asked grandly, but didn’t tease its host for long. “I’ll never leave you,” it promised faithfully, shadowy tendrils skirting around the tub to caress her mottled skin. It felt Seras’ fear and knew that it was a very _real_ thing, the horrific thought that something or someone could wrench them apart, and she would have to wander the world without her soul. Every vampire had that paranoia, even if it was completely unfounded.

Yes, there were some demonic rites that could separate the soul into pieces, but the mortal would be unable to survive. Seras and her dæmon would be together until she breathed her last breath. After that, who knew? Would they go on in the afterlife together, never to be separated? Would the dæmon merge with her and she would finally be a true, complete being? Dæmons and vampires speculated about that very thing, but the only ones that knew were the ones who had already left the world, and had no way of contacting the living.

“I dreamed that you were gone,” Seras admitted. “There was only a real reflection in the mirror.” The dæmon, who had hopped from the bath to the mirror and was sitting up, _her_ uniform completely dry, shuddered.

“That’s sickening,” it said along with a string of muttered swearwords. “Doesn’t it make you feel sad for those poor blokes who don’t have dæmons?” Seras nodded silently. For as long as she’d known her dæmon, she’d felt pity for humans and other supernatural creatures who didn’t have one.

True, her dæmon was vain, presumptuous, and a bawdy pervert. But with that came the pleasure of knowing oneself in a way that no one else could. She didn’t tell humans about her dæmon, though they knew her shadows sometimes had a mind of its own. How could she explain the immense joy of being companions with your own soul to someone who had never spoken to theirs? Words were not sufficient enough.

“I feel strange,” she told her dæmon, who nodded sympathetically. “I think I let myself get too hot in my coffin. Usually I wake up before that happens.”

“This is a special circumstance. You had to rest. Your brain was rewiring itself as you slept.” It smiled. “For a bit, it was like being back inside the womb. You had to be unconscious so that your body and the blood could work together. Now, you are true Nosferatu,” it proclaimed with a flourish, mimicking her master.

 _Former_ master, she corrected herself with a sigh. He no longer had a possessive claim to her; no more or less than any male vampire out in the world. She felt a sense of peace at that, as well as curiosity and concern. Would he not want her now, seeing as his possessive hold on her was gone? Was that the only thing wrong with him, or had he really wanted her sexually? Did he truly have lust and affections for her? She voiced the thoughts aloud and her dæmon hummed musingly, tapping the mirror as it thought.

“I don’t know,” it said finally. “There’s no denying that he felt the attraction towards you, because at that moment I sensed his dæmon keenly.” Seras looked at it, seeing the uncharacteristic uncertainty in its eyes again. “But… if the master-servant bond was driving his actions, then there is no reason for him to accept your challenge if he doesn’t want to. Others can and will feel attracted to you, but choose not to accept for reasons of their own. He would be no different than the rest.”

“Do you—would you care if he did?” she asked, almost shyly. The dæmon thought, fidgeting in the mirror frame.

“He’s strong, handsome, powerful….” It said quietly. “His dæmon is first-rate. I wanted him, when he came in here the other day. I still do,” it confessed. “I wonder if he _does_ still feel the same way; would it be as strong?” it looked off into the distance, lips pursed.

“How could we find out?” Seras had to ask twice more before it shook itself out of its thoughts and looked at her again. “Is it driving you to distraction?” she teased, and the dæmon sniffed haughtily.

“We should be the one driving _him_ to distraction, not the other way around,” it growled. “As for finding out—hmm, we could just come across him, I suppose. If it’s still a good chemistry, I’ll know.”

“I’m nervous. What do I say to him?” Seras sunk down in the tubs, everything from her nose down submerge in the ice. She felt her cheeks flaming, and knew that it was from her blushing and not the heat. His blood had tasted so good! She still remembered it, even if she had been in pain afterwards. She’d wanted to drink every last drop, if it wouldn’t have harmed him. And the feeling of his muscles tensing and then turning to mush under her arms, the way he’d leaned on her as if he couldn’t support his own weight, and the suppressed groan that had worked its way up his throat—she felt it all as if it were still happening.

It had excited her more than she thought it would, or _should_. A part of her worried about the stigma of being romantically involved with someone who had been the closest thing she had for a teacher or a parent in a long time. But she knew that it wasn’t unheard of for vampires to mate with their former fledglings, and it wasn’t frowned upon in the vampiric community in the slightest. The bond between master and servant vampire manifested itself in different ways, depending on both people’s personalities and connections. It could become anything from a distant, friendly association to a searing, passionate relationship that felt more like they were soul mates.

When Seras had first found this out, over twenty years ago when she had her first large encounter with vampiric society in general, she had been amazed and confused. She had thought long and hard about her own connection with her master, who had been gone for so long. What had theirs been? She’d only known him for a mere handful of months before the London Blitz. She had wondered what Alucard would have thought about their connection.

And now, she was realizing that they had the potential to be something more amorous. The thought frightened her—who was she, but a tiny little police officer from England? He was a powerful fallen prince, who had won wars and spread terror and bloodshed throughout his kingdom! Who was she to even _consider_ that she may be the one to tame him? That was cheesy romance novel material, not real life! Her dæmon laughed at her thoughts.

“You couldn’t tame him, that’s for sure!” it crowed, before giving her a more serious, cunning stare. “But you could love him. That’s not hard to do.”

“What’s love got to do with it?” Seras argued. The dæmon whistled a few bars of Tina Turner’s song and she scowled at the apparent lightheartedness in light of such a dire situation. This was eternity she was thinking about! Once she chose a mate, there was no going back!

“Love,” the dæmon purred, “can overcome all things. So it’s said.” Seras rolled her eyes and the creature in the mirror sobered up, frowning at her. “I’m completely serious. I think you might love him already. And he could love you too, one day.”

“I highly doubt both of those,” Seras sneered, sinking down farther into the melting cubes and pulling off her uniform. If it hadn’t been worked through with sweat and dirt from rolling on the ground last night, the ice bathe did it. She winced; poor Meadows. He’d have to find some way to clean that up well.

As if on cue, the elderly butler entered with her dinner. He paused at the sight of her near-ruined uniform, but said nothing and instead bowed as he presented her with the pail. Seras smiled and greeted him, her dæmon purring happily in the mirror at the thought of food. She liked Meadows; she’d met him during a mission to South Africa, to see about a vampire who was controlling an entire town and leaving the people terrified.

The vampire, a high-ranking baron from Austria, had put up a good fight and she’d been disgusted at the veritable zoo of Ghouls he had in his mansion’s yard. It was repulsing—he’d never wanted to make a vampire, so he raped the virgins before drinking their blood; it didn’t matter if they had been male or female, or even a child or an adult. She’d cried as she put the tiny moaning forms out of their misery.

He had only one servant—Meadows. The poor man had been stolen from his family as a small child and forced to serve the master of the house in… many ways. When Seras met him, he was in his fifties and completely powerless. He had spent his whole live serving, and had no clue as to what he should do now that his oppressor was nothing more than scattered ash. Seras had been flabbergasted when the dark-skinned man had knelt on one knee and proclaimed in his rich, powerful voice that he would serve her.

“I am indebted to you, my beautiful Lady,” he had said, nearly prostrate on the ground. “I will follow you and serve your every command.” Seras had called Sir Integra, and after fierce negotiations with the townspeople, the South African Hellsing branch, and Seras’ prodding Sir Integra into action he had come back with Seras to England. He served in the Hellsing house as a retainer, although he had to get used to the fact that he received wages every month and benefits.

“My uniform is ruined,” she told Meadows sadly. “It’s got dirt stains and it was ripped up in a fight.” The old man picked up the uniform in his hands, turning it over and fingering the holes. Then he nodded, a slight frown marring his features.

“Yes, it seems as though you put up a good fight,” he agreed. “Did you meet an enemy during your walk last night?” He seemed concerned and she shook her head, dispelling his worry.

“No, I was just…” she paused, unsure of how to explain it. She was certain that Alucard was not supposed to be out of the manor last night. He wouldn’t have gotten Sir Integra’s permission. She didn’t want Meadows to go and tell her that Alucard had escaped the manor, and beaten her up. “I was just sparring with an old mentor,” she said finally. That wasn’t a lie, not really.

Meadows eyed her strangely, and she fought to keep from coloring under his scrutinizing gaze. He knew that she wasn’t telling the whole truth, but true to his nature he didn’t press the matter further. Instead, he took what was left of her uniform in his hands and neatly folded the ruined skirt, setting it aside.

“These might be salvageable,” he told her, brandishing her stockings. She nodded and he set them aside to look at later. “Sir Integra wanted me to remind you that tonight is evaluation night,” he said conversationally, tidying up her room as she soaked in her bath. Seras scowled. She’d forgotten—it _was_ evaluation night, wasn’t it? She’d be expected to show up at the training arena to aid her troops tonight.

“Yes, thank you, Meadows. I’ll be there as soon as I get dressed,” she promised with an air of forced cheer. “Please tell Sir Integra to wait for me.” The elderly man nodded and left the room, leaving the bucket of blood behind. Seras quickly began to eat, feeling hungry. Meadows had given her A- today; it left a bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn’t her favorite, but it was briny enough that it woke her up and flooded her veins with energy. She finished every pack and left nothing but melting ice in a metal bucket.

“That’s weird,” she murmured. “Usually I’m not that hungry.” Her dæmon snickered.

“Well, you _did_ have a rough day, and besides, your powers have grown…” it paused, searching for the right word, “exponentially.” Seras frowned, having noticed it too. She felt normal, but—at the same time, she wasn’t. Something bubbled beneath her skin, and she frowned, wriggling with the weird feeling of it. She wasn’t even sure how to tap into it.

“What do I do?” she asked the dæmon, scratching her skin lightly as if her nails could release the power from beneath her flesh. She paused, watching her newly-formed arm, and the dæmon spoke.

“Pretend that there’s a switch inside your brain.” Seras tried to imagine it—a light switch was the first thing that popped into her mind and she went along with it. “Above that switch is a dial. First, flip the switch, and then turn the dial. Not literally, of course. It’s just easier to envision that until you get used to controlling the flow of power through your body.”

Seras did what the dæmon said, flipping the “switch” in her brain. Immediately her powers came through, and the world was suddenly too bright, too loud, with too much information. Her skin registered the exact temperature of the ice, London was a wild scream in the back of her mind, and she smelled every single human in the manor, the tang of their blood and scent of their skin, their heartbeats a million rapid beats in her ears.

She turned the “dial” down, now realizing why it would be there. London faded away to a bubbling murmur, the heartbeats vanished, but she could still hear much better than before. Her skin wasn’t so sensitive, she opened her eyes and wasn’t blinded by the fluorescent lighting in her room, and the scent faded back until the only thing she sensed was the mingled musk of a crowd of humans. She licked her lips and tasted the air, realizing with delight that even if she didn’t want to feel _everything_ at once, she could easily hone in on one sense or the other, or even two or three at a time.

“This is… amazing!” she gasped happily, playing around with her new powers. Her dæmon sat smugly in the mirror, watching her with amusement as she discovered the limits of her own abilities and adjusted her sensory power until she was comfortable with the amount of information flowing in through her body. Her shadows hopped and skipped about the floor in her delight, curling up the walls and the rim of the tub.

“We should get going,” it said after Seras had sat in the tub long enough that the ice was melted, completely unaware of the time as she explored her newfound potential. “Sir Integra will be waiting on us so that she can hurry with the evaluations and get back to her regular duties.”

“You’re right!” Seras leaped out of the tub, her shadows rushing to dry her off as she searched around for another uniform. She found an old one in the back and tugged it on, using her powers to dye it red and black. Glancing in the mirror, she grimaced at her hair. She hadn’t had any time to wash it since last night, and now it hung in flat, lanky strands around her face. Her dæmon shrugged helplessly and she snapped her fingers, running back to her vanity to search around in the drawers.

She resurfaced triumphantly with a hair tie and deftly ran her bangs and short locks through it, making a cute ponytail. It helped a little, and at least her hair was out of her face. The dæmon tightened its reflected hairstyle and Seras felt a phantom tugging on her own hair and copied it. Then she grabbed her trusty cannon from the corner and ran from the room, slinging it over her shoulder. The dæmon bounced ahead along the walls, feeding her information about who was where and what was going on in the mansion.

“Hurry, Hurry!” it urged as it ran, making itself into her “proper” shadow in order to stretch its legs before shifting into a cheetah and racing ahead. “You’ll be late!” Seras obediently increased her pace, ducking around soldiers and waving wordlessly in response to their hellos. When she got close to them, she heard their heartbeats again and smelled the different levels of fragrance that some of them had, with aftershave and sweat and their own unique scent. It was distracting, but she found happily that she could just shove it to the back of her mind, and it became little more than a form of white noise as she ran out the doors and into the night, heading around the corner to the training arena.

She sensed adrenaline on the wind, coming from the anxious soldiers. She smelled the grass and the forest beyond the manor’s walls, and the stench of London: sewage, car exhaust, food, and hot bodies. Pulling away from it all, she honed in on the training arena and cleared her mind as she approached Sir Integra.

“Sorry I’m late, Sir!” she said with a salute. “I had to finish my bath.” Sir Integra nodded knowingly, her hair shimmering in the pale moonlight. Seras caught the scent of shampoo and something undefinable that _all_ elderly people smelled like.

“You’re forgiven, Captain Victoria. But hurry it up—the men are waiting for you at the beginning of the arena.” With a nod she turned and ran to the back of the arena, where her troop would be waiting for their captain beside the solid steel door that would open to let them in, and stay shut until they either gave up or completed the maze.

Integra climbed the platform that stood above the arena slowly, wincing as her hips cracked and her arthritis flared. She finally reached the top, thinking to herself that she really needed to install lifts in the manor and outside of it. Other soldiers stood along the platform at various levels, ready to see how Seras and her team would do inside the arena. The platform gave anyone who stood on it a complete view of the entire maze, every room and every hallway underneath them.

She raised her hand and motioned to the Hazardous Beings handler standing close by. “Release the Ghouls now,” she said, and the man nodded and pressed the button that would let the Ghouls, who had been saved from various missions for this exact purpose, into the arena. Seras and her men were in top form; stuffed dummies held no challenge for them. For _their_ evaluations, Ghouls were the closest thing to real-life missions that Sir Integra dared to have on hand.

Alucard came up next to her, and she glanced at him briefly before continuing the preparations. He watched the maze, catching the rotten blood and putrid limb scent of the Ghouls as they moaned and groaned, slowly moving farther and farther into the maze. He could see that some of them were armed, some had bombs attached to their bodies, and most were traveling in packs of six or seven.

His dæmon, who for discretion’s sake had decided to stay a 2-D shadow on the platform, took the form of a cat and inched curiously to the edge of the platform, looking down as well. He had heard that Seras’ team had their evaluations today; the other soldiers had been talking about going to watch it. Everyone knew that Seras trained her men to be the best, and her evaluations were the most interesting to watch.

He didn’t know why he was even interested in it. She had taken her freedom, and technically he could wash his hands of her and part ways as amiable companions like other vampires did. But he wanted to see her again, in action. It had been a very long time since they had a mission together. He wondered how she would use her new powers in the arena.

His dæmon felt other things for the girl, still. In his mind, he sensed that the creature wanted to see _her_ dæmon, and he wondered why. She was no longer in his mind, they had no bond, and he had no claim to her anymore. But all the same, it was like an addiction. He’d watch her one more time, and then that was it. No more, no matter how much his dæmon wanted it. He was in control of his own soul, not that emotional sod that was creeping around the platform first as a cat, but now as a wolf. He inclined his head, watching it sniff his master’s shadow disinterestedly before rearing back on its haunches and scratching its ear.

 _I wonder if it’ll start soon_ , it mused in his mind. He gave his head the slightest of shakes, not bothering to say “I don’t know”. It padded back over to him, curling up around his boots protectively as it looked out (well, it was still a shadow, but he _thought_ it was looking) over the field. _I’m excited. Do you know, we haven’t seen her out on a mission since before we fought the Nazis?_

Had it really been that long? He thought back, counting the weeks and then realized that the dæmon was right. He hadn’t seen her at all on a mission since she’d become a true vampire. It startled him that he would see her fighting for the first time not as a sniveling servant vampire, but as a true Nosferatu. He was shaken by his thoughts as Sir Integra began to talk. The wolf shadow’s ears perked, listening intently to the elderly woman’s voice as it was broadcasted over the arena with the help of a microphone built into the control panel that was attached to the platform.

“Alright, Troop #80!” she said in an authoritative tone. “You’re about to begin your bi-annual evaluations. I don’t need to remind you that live Ghouls have been released into this maze, so there is a very real danger for all of you. If you are bitten by a Ghoul, remember that there is a medical alert button attached to your supply belts for such a purpose. _Do not_ hesitate to push that button, as every second counts in a medical emergency! Do you understand?” A loud chorus of “Yes Sir!” came from the other side of the arena, and he heard Seras’ voice mixed in with the masculine tones. The wolf-shadow stood, ears pricking as it sniffed in the direction of the voices.

 _Sit down_ , he growled to his dæmon irritably. The wolf rested on its haunches before lying down, tail thumping lazily though its ears stayed up.

“I’ll also warn you that there are bombs on Ghouls, in the walls, and even on the ground. We have medical staff standing by, but for God’s sake, don’t blow yourselves up,” Sir Integra continued. “I don’t have to tell you that Seras Victoria is your leader, and you will not only be evaluated for clearing the maze effectively, but also on your reaction time and your work as a team. Good luck, men.” With that, she pressed a button on the control panel and the steel door rose with an ear-splitting shriek. The hackles on both Alucard and the wolf-shadow rose and he frowned, wrinkling his nose. Sir Integra shook her head with an exasperated sigh.

“Meadows, that door needs oiling,” she proclaimed, and the butler nodded from where he stood near the stairs, mingling with the men as they leaned over the banisters and watched the maze for the first sign of the troop. It didn’t take long for the sound of gunfire and then an exploding bomb to get them excited and they jostled each other with bated breath, making bets on what might happen.

Then Alucard saw them turn the corner and come into view. Seras led them, dressed in a crimson and black uniform with her hair pulled out of her face with a tie. He watched intently as her dæmon stretched out along the walls as a bloodhound, sniffing along the walls and floor for bombs. Then, changing into formless shadows, it danced back and Seras made the hand signal to come ahead. Ghouls rounded the far corner and started to fire at the team just as they passed her on her orders. At the ready, a line of men dropped to one knee and dispatched them all efficiently.

They moved forward quickly, but Seras’ head twitched towards the platform for a fraction of an instant and he knew that she had realized he was there, watching. He felt his dæmon’s surprise and looked down to see a slinky, shadowy fox come to greet them, sliding up the nearest wooden post before spilling onto the platform. They circled each other, patting and pawing before the vixen rubbed beneath the wolf’s muzzle and then hopped back to Seras’ side, stopping to protect a man who nearly had his leg blown off with a hidden land mine.

He felt a rush of exhilaration shoot down his spine and stood ramrod straight. No one noticed except the dæmon, who ran back to the edge of the platform and sat down, tail wagging wildly. _What was it?_ he asked, and the wolf looked back at him briefly before turning its attention to the arena as two bombs went off at once, men yelling below.

 _She wanted to know why we were here_ , it replied absently, focused on the carnage being wrought in the maze as Seras shoved a bomb-clad Ghoul into a band of its fellows, the hoard exploding with a violent sound and bloody, decomposed parts flying everywhere.

 _And what did you say?_ He wondered at the dæmon, who had clearly answered the question without consulting him. Dæmons conversed with one another and sometimes even touched, when the vampires were intimate or friendly. He’d even seen dæmons touching when vampires consoled each other, even if they were strangers.

But when two souls touched, it was very personal, and so it only happened when vampires were clearly sharing emotions. When her dæmon had rubbed against his dæmon, he had felt it in his own mind too, a feeling that centered in the place his heart was. But answering a question was nothing, not anything intimate and the touch shouldn’t worry him. Even so, dæmons usually answered questions for their vampires only after getting the answer first!

 _I said that we wanted to watch her fight._ It was the truth, and he relaxed a little. She couldn’t read anything into that. It was the last thing he needed, for her to get confused and think that he was going to accept her challenge. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but at this point he was fairly certain that since his hold on her was gone, he wouldn’t be so compelled to keep her for himself. He didn’t need to be settled down like that. It wasn’t his nature.

 _Very well, then_. His dæmon laughed in his mind and the wolf arched down playfully, batting at his boot.

 _Don’t be so sour about it. The night is magnificent._ He kicked at the animal and only got more laughter, which he silenced with a low hiss. He hated the spirited nature of his dæmon, who always seemed to find more fun in mundane, infantile things than he did. It really did remind him of Seras when he first met her, and she would delight in silly things like making men out of snow and picking wildflowers that grew alongside the training fields for her bedroom.

The men cheered as bombs detonated, Ghouls cried out as they were mowed down, and soldiers shouted and scrambled. After a good half-hour, the team emerged in its entirety, covered in blood and dirt but otherwise unharmed. Sir Integra and the other men descended the platform, and he stayed above. He heard her commending Seras’ team for their performance, stating that the official results would be out as soon as she could get to them.

His dæmon told him that Seras was coming up and he squared his shoulders, ready for her. A short time later he heard the telltale creak of the platform stairs and the bloodstained girl appeared on the platform. Her dæmon, a she-wolf this time, bounded over and the two shadowy animals started to play a game of tag.

“Police Girl, how fares your mind this evening?” he asked cordially. He knew that sometimes, it was very overwhelming for a vampire to go through those final changes. It was hard, trying to get used to a brand new body, and a newly wired brain. And she had done it during her Cycles—he hadn’t ever heard of that happening, but she seemed to be none the worse for wear.

“I am well,” she replied just as good-naturedly, sneaking a glance at the dæmons. He knew what she felt; he too was becoming distracted by their giddiness in the back of his mind. He had half a mind to tell his dæmon to stop at once and come back to him, so that he could get his thoughts together. But at the same time, it was a very heady feeling and he couldn’t say that he didn’t like it. It was the same sort of rush he felt when fighting a new, strong enemy that forced him to stay on his toes. “A little warm, but that’ll pass.”

They stared at each other, standing apart. He wasn’t sure how to respond to her answer, and she held her hands behind her back, looking bashfully at him through her lashes. Her hair was stained pink in placed from blood, and a droplet gathered enough weight to slide from her hairline onto her temple and down her cheek. She caught it with her thumb, wiping the drop and licking it off without a second thought, a small frown on her face as she tasted the ripe pungency that came with Ghoul blood.

He caught the odor of the blood, rotten and thick as the air settled on his tongue. Underneath it, he could still smell the spicy-sweet fragrance that wafted from her skin. The thought came unbidden that he wouldn’t mind the curdled blood if he could lick it off of her. As if she heard his thought, her eyes flashed up to meet his and suddenly his mouth was dry as it had been when he’d woken up in the dungeon to protect the young teenage Integra.

“Alucard?” She was watching him cautiously, her hand still hovering in the air. He exhaled sharply, trying to push the scent back out of his lungs. He _shouldn’t_ be feeling this way. She wasn’t his Childe any longer; he had no hold on her anymore. She was just another vampire, another soul that wallowed in blood the same as the rest of them. But his dæmon was pleading in his mind, the sound making his ears ring. And she was just standing there as if she had no idea she was still tempting to him.

“Seras…” he answered, taking a step forward without thinking. His dæmon was fast advancing on hers, which had taken the form of a panther and was backing away, crouched low to the ground. He took another step, unsure of what he was about to do though he knew that he was going to do _something_. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he reached for her. She stood frozen, her eyes wide before she shook herself into action.

“No!” she squeaked, backing up against the stairs. If she moved back any farther, she’d tumble down them. But he wasn’t deterred, not until he came too close and she slapped him. His head rocked and he came to his senses, his face centimeters from her own and surrounded by her shadows. He snarled at the fact that she dared to strike him, but couldn’t bring himself to return the favor; not when all he wanted to do was capture her and spend an eternity exploring every inch of her body.

He saw a splash of blood against the back of her head and leaned in, holding her still as he lapped it up. He buried his face against her throat, breathing in the intoxicating aroma and fighting to keep control over his movements. His dæmon bent low to the ground, tail swishing non-threateningly, and the panther raised its head and watched the submissive display warily as if it knew it was a trap of some sort.

“I will rip apart every male that tries to take you,” he hissed against her skin, feeling her jolt and gasp at his possessive words. She pushed at him, trying to make him let go, and he obeyed despite the act making his skin crawl with the desire to grab her up again.

“Does this mean you accept?” she asked callously, and he pulled back to see her bewildered face. He was confusing her, he realized. She didn’t know what to think.

“Think hard about what you’re offering, little Seras,” he growled, taking off his glasses. She met his gaze boldly. “Do you really want a man like me for eternity? I will slaughter any others, and you can’t go back on your choice,” he warned her. Once she chose, she was bound for eternity, or until one of them died. But at that point it would be hell for them to be parted, even in death. She licked her lips and it took everything he had to stand still and wait for her to restate her offer. She thought hard for a moment, her eyes distant, and then she reached out and tentatively brushed his cheek with her fingers.

“I don’t care what sort of man you think you are,” she said sincerely. “I have my own opinion of you.” He leaned into her touch, his eyes burning into her face, and sighed. “If you want me, then come and get me.” She tried to wink and laugh at the same time, but her attempt to dispel the tension fell flat.

He backed away, standing off by himself. He called back his dæmon, but it whined and inched closer to the panther. He forcefully pulled the dæmon away and shivered as it rattled around the back of his mind restlessly. Seras turned and went down the stairs, looking back once as her dæmon slithered down after her. He watched until she turned the corner and went out of sight before letting his shoulders slump.

 _What have I done?_ He thought, wanting to go and shoot something.

 _Something right for once,_ his dæmon replied dryly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are beginning to heat up a bit.


	8. Drawing the Line

                “No! No, I’ve not been naughty!” Alucard looked around at the room he’d woken up to find himself in. It was a dream, of course, because his dæmon was here beside him, a carbon copy of himself although its eyes were much more concerned. The room was plain, with pale green paneling and threadbare furniture.

                Two nuns came into the room dragging what looked at first like an overgrown wildcat. The wildcat shrieked again and Alucard was shocked to see it was a pint-sized version of his Police Girl. She was no more than seven or eight at the most, and her blue eyes were brimming with tears. When she saw the room, she doubled her efforts and her expression became one of terror.

                “Come now, Victoria!” one of the nuns grumbled, trying to grab a better handhold on the child. “You’ve never done this before!”

                “She’s always had it in her,” the other nun noted. “I told the headmaster himself, I did.” The first nun shook her head absently and grabbed the girl’s other arm, holding her on her knees while the Mother Superior went to a narrow closet and opened the door with a creak. At the sound, the child flew into hysterics.

                “ _No_!” she sobbed and screamed repeatedly, clutching onto the nun’s long habit. “No, not the closet! Please, Sister Joan, not the closet, _not the closet_! I’ll be good, I promise! I promise!” The nun looked nearly sympathetic and opened her mouth, but the Mother Superior cut her off.

                “There!” she exclaimed haughtily. “That’s a prime example of the wickedness in you, child! You’ve been naughty, and now you’ll be punished for it.”

                “No!” Seras panted, out of breath as she renewed her efforts to escape. Sister Joan managed to catch her ‘round the collar and she choked, slipping on the worn wooden floor and falling to the ground with a crash. She was too choked to do more than yelp.

                “Come now!” Sister Joan admonished again. “You’re only making it worse for yourself!” she added in a hushed tone, so that the Superior wouldn’t hear. The two nuns grabbed her shoulders and pushed her towards the open closet door. Alucard stepped closer, peering in. His dæmon peered over his shoulder, its hands clasping the back of his coat. The inside of the closet was empty, save a wooden stool that barely fit inside the narrow walls.

                “That’s enough out of you!” the Mother Superior hissed. “I’ll have no more of this rubbish! There are no monsters in the closet, and there never will be! I want you to stay in here and pray for repentance and the state of your soul!”

The poor child was scrambling on the floor and blabbering nonsense in her panic, and Alucard felt a rush of pure rage. Both nuns were clearly old in this memory; if only they were still alive today. It was very unlikely, but Alucard felt the need to enact some unholy vengeance on the humans who dared to frighten Seras so badly.

“Please!” she pleaded, completely limp as they hauled her onto the stool. They didn’t seem to be moved, although Sister Joan was nearly in tears herself.

“Shut the closet door, and leave her in here for an hour to reflect on her sins,” the Mother Superior commanded icily. She turned and left the room in a swirl of black cloth. Sister Joan looked at the empty doorway before bending to the whimpering child’s level.

“If you stay here on the stool and be a good girl, I’ll leave the door open,” she promised.

“I will! I will!” Seras promised frenziedly. The nun gave her a stern look.

“Seras, child, you _must_ stop this. It’s unladylike to strike anyone, especially another person!” she chided. Seras pouted.

“I only hit ‘em because _he_ hit Mary Ellen and stole her jacks!” she argued. Sister Joan shook her head and cut her off with a single glance.

“It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t strike others, for any reason. It was Mary Ellen’s job to come tell someone that Eric stole her jacks. You needn’t have interfered; it only made more trouble for yourself.” Seras opened her mouth to protest, but the nun rose to her feet and looked at her questioningly, one hand on the closet door. Seras clapped her hands over her mouth and stared up fearfully.

“Alright then. Be a good girl and do as you’re told; don’t move.” The nun left the closet door open, but shut the door to the room and left in a flurry of hurried footsteps. The child Seras stared at the closed door before hugging herself on the stool, her knees curling up towards her chest as she began to cry silently. Alucard stared at her shaking shoulders before turning away in disgust; not at her, but at the mournful expression on his dæmon’s eyes as it inched closer to the memory-Seras as if to comfort her.

“She never was fond of dark places,” it said hesitantly, as if testing the air between it and its host. “And after her parents died, she became claustrophobic as well.”

“She raised a fuss in Rio, when I told her to get into the television cabinet.” The dæmon approached him and opened the door, where a blank void awaited them. It motioned Alucard on and then they were in a multicolored swirl of memories. He caught glimpses of himself weaving in and out of the snatches of her mind floating here and there. He hadn’t been into her dreams, although he’d infiltrated the dreams and memories of others countless times.

“I remember,” the dæmon murmured, staring with interest at a memory of Seras speaking to her reflection. “That’s her dæmon, I suppose.” Alucard refrained from looking directly at it—it was a near taboo to see another’s dæmon in any form other than shadows. It was wrong—such a thing wasn’t supposed to happen, really.

“Why is she afraid of closed spaces? It took her years to get used to a coffin, the blundering…thing,” Alucard snarled, breaking off quietly as he watched a memory of him float by. When had she seen him dressed in nothing but his underwear? He never walked around like that.

“That’s a fantasy, I believe,” the dæmon corrected helpfully, looking curiously at the snippet. “Not a memory. Women’s minds are so full of fantasies. It’s absurd, really, but then again, they are different creatures….”

“Answer me!” Alucard prodded with a growl. The dæmon twisted into shadows, a strange sight to watch. It interweaved among the floating memories before answering, its voice an echoing boom in the infinite space.

“Well, if we were to dive into these memories, the ones that she’s near repressed, then we’d find the answer. But,” it added, sliding into a memory and being thrown out again almost instantly, “she’s kept them behind stone walls, and there they’ll stay. Much like you,” it cooed in a snarky tone.  

“Oh really?” Alucard watched a memory of a blonde man in a police uniform. Most likely, it was the Police Girl’s father—she had said once that she’d been a policewoman to honor his memory.

“Yes,” the dæmon replied, turning into a curious cat to curl around its host’s boots. “The Nazi woman saw it, of course, and so did the cat-child. But her walls are thick—she’s had many years to fortify them.” It pawed at a memory of Pip Bernadotte in a pie eating contest downtown. “Not even the Captain has access to them. She might share them with— _hello_!” it purred.

Alucard turned to see a shadowy figure come out of a memory fragment and regard him cooly before slithering though the air to land and form into a cat as well. The two dæmons circled each other, becoming nearly unrecognizable. Then, a haughty voice filled the space—it was Seras’ and yet not. It was snobbish and sure of itself, so unlike the girl in reality.

“What _are_ you doing here?” it asked coldly, crimson eyes glaring into his own. A shudder ran down his spine; he was _not_ supposed to hear another’s dæmon! It was like hearing another person’s soul speak to you! He’d heard rumors of other vampires doing it, between mates. It was a sort of loving caress between two souls. But for someone as distant to him as Seras? It was so very, very wrong.

Suddenly, he realized that he shouldn’t be here without her permission. These were her memories, and if she had infiltrated his mind, he would be very angry. They were more his dæmon’s thoughts than his own, and for any other person he might have cared less. But this was _Seras_ , and as much as he wanted to stay his shadows were working against him, pushing him back the way he came.

 _Go! Go!_ His dæmon hissed at him, pulling him back until he awoke in his chair with a start. _Idiot! Bloody fool!_ The dæmon was more agitated than it had been in a long while, and he felt his body react to the tremors in its voice. His heart felt as though it needed to pound away in his chest, and he suddenly felt like running for days, weeks even, to get as far away from this place as possible.

“What happened!?” he demanded, breathing heavily. The dæmon paused in its frantic writhing to cower almost fearfully in the back of his mind.

 _We weren’t supposed to be there. That’s territory for… we should have waited until we won her before we did that._ But it was as curious as he was, and now they’d made some sort of mistake. Alucard waited for the dæmon to explain more, but it was obstinately silent on the subject. _I wonder if it’ll tell on us._

“Who cares?” Alucard replied dismissively, pouring himself a glass of wine. “Besides you.”

 _You should!_ It snarled. _This may hurt our chances._ Alucard sipped the drink, trying to calm the ague he felt in his chest.

“ _What_ chances?” he asked disinterestedly, thumb polishing the side of the glass as he considered the liquid sloshing within. The dæmon roared in anger and he sat up straight, the hairs on the back of his neck rising in response to the being’s frustration and anxiety.

 _Our chances for Seras!_ it howled, and he unconsciously rubbed his neck as he slowly settled back in the chair. His dæmon swirled into form in the room and slammed forcefully into the side of the throne.

“Calm down!” Alucard growled, half standing. The dæmon took on his shadow, pacing around the room along the floor and the walls, tugging at its hair. “And you complain because _I_ pace.” The shadow paused and stared at him, and even if it didn’t have a face he could imagine the expression twisting its familiar features.

 _You do realize no matter what we do, in the end she has to choose you,_ it said flatly.

“You think she _won’t_ choose me, you mean.” The dæmon disappeared, the shadows breaking apart like ripples in a pond.

 _We haven’t helped our chances any,_ it answered simply. _From now on, we must be on our best behavior_.

“How do you suppose we do that?” he chuckled darkly. “I don’t really have any form of behavior she would deem “best behavior”, I think.” The dæmon remained silent, and for once he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Well?”

But he never received an answer.

* * *

Seras awoke, sitting up at her little table. She’d fallen asleep at it after evaluations last night, and now her neck was sore. Her dæmon was buzzing angrily in her mind and she shook her head, rubbing her eyes.

“Whazza matter?” she mumbled, yawning and automatically pulling her powers in until she could look at the lights without squinting. The dæmon didn’t answer straightaway, instead mingling curses with ranting and raging all its own.

“Of all the bloody inconceivable, _rude_ , annoying— _completely_ boorish… vulgarity! It’s vulgarity!” it finally shouted in her mind, making her wince with the loud noise.

“What is?” Seras moaned, rubbing her temples. It was too early in the evening to deal with her dæmon and its quirks. A maid must have wandered in and sprayed the table with something other than furniture polish again.

“Ugh! How can you not know!” it shrieked, moving to the mirror and gazing on the room with a wrathful gaze. “I can’t believe you’re so _ignorant_ to the… the travesty that has been wrought upon us!”

“W-what?” Seras stared blankly at the mirror. The dæmon wrinkled its nose and shook its head.

“I had to protect your head!” it shouted, beside itself with anger. “He could have went anywhere he wanted, and seen anything! Did you want him to know all of our history, our desires, _everything_?”

“Who?” The dæmon puffed up, visibly shaken beyond words. It gaped for a moment before pointing at the hallway, silently fuming. Seras followed its finger to see that it was pointing in the direction of Alucard’s chambers. She rubbed her eyes again, wiping her face and hitting some stray drool. She rubbed her mouth on her collar and sighed. “I don’t see what the problem is, sorry. He’s seen my mind before.”

“Before! Before you broke free! _That’s_ the problem, ninny!” Seras scowled.

“I’m not talking to you until you’ve calmed down some,” she proclaimed, and the dæmon snarled in reply. “I’m going to take a shower. You stay here and when I come back, we can speak like regular people.” She stood and opened the bathroom door, unceremoniously cutting the dæmon’s harsh reply off as she slammed it behind her.

She stripped her uniform off and turned on the shower, letting it get as hot as she dared. Even though she could stand under the scalding stream of water and still not be warm inside, it would burn her skin and so she never got it as hot as she wished it could be. She stepped under the spray and let her neck be massaged by the jet-streamed shower head. She groaned and rubbed the tense muscle, trying to get it to loosen up further.

She lathered up and rinsed off before working on her hair. Shampooing and conditioning the blonde strands, she took a comb and worked through the wet, sudsy mess. Gently untangling the snags, she made her hair silky-smooth before rinsing it out. Finally she had nothing more to do and reluctantly turned off the water, stepping out of the tub.

Even with the steam billowing around the ceiling, the damp cold of her basement bathroom seeped through the stone walls and crept up through the cracks in the concrete floor, making her feel miserable. If only she could still dry off in sunlight. She sought the memories of her youth, lying out beside the lake in her bathing suit and drying off in the warm beams of light while her father and mother chatted underneath “their” horse chestnut tree nearby.

But she would never lie in the sun again, unless she wanted to kill herself. She could sit under a horse chestnut tree, but instead of hearing her mother’s laughter she would only hear the empty wind blowing through the leaves. She could never enjoy the feeling of sun-kissed skin, or the barely-uncomfortable sting of a mild sunburn. It was either all or nothing now; be burned to a crisp, or stay indoors. The thought made her depressed.

She wrapped a towel around her hair, grabbing her smaller bathrobe from a hook hanging above the laundry chute, and trudged into the bedroom again with a sigh. She was supposed to go out and look for potential men today, but all of a sudden she really didn’t want to. She hadn’t felt this bad in a long time; not since she was a human, for sure.

Her dæmon was also in a melancholy mood, it seemed. Its anger simmered, it was curled up in a corner of the mirror, looking too sullen to even pout. It watched her as she took her seat again, laying her head on one hand and meeting its bad-tempered gaze.

“Are you ready to talk?” she asked, and it huffed before sitting up and mimicking her.

“Are you ready to listen?” it replied scathingly. Seras pursed her lips and it sat up straighter. “You do realize that our psyche was compromised, infiltrated, _molested_ by gloved, grubby fingers?”

“If he _did_ do something, he didn’t make anything too out of place,” Seras countered. “My mind is fine.” The dæmon shook its head in exasperation.

“But it’s the principle of it,” it sighed, trying to make her understand. “He had no right to infringe on our personal thoughts. Maybe when we shared minds, but not now. We should be a complete stranger to him, regarding such…” it paused, face screwing up in an effort to find the right term, “intimate matters.” Seras winced.

“We’re not intimate,” she said, more for the joke of it. The dæmon looked annoyed and then moved out of the mirror’s opening, cutting her off. “Don’t be so gloomy!” she called after it. “Your mood is making me feel depressed.” There was no answer, but she knew the dæmon was just brooding out of sight, angry because she wasn’t taking this as seriously as it was. Was it even something to take serious at all? Finally she gave in with a groan. “Alright, alright; what do you want me to do?”

“March down there and make him apologize!” was the answer. Seras laughed aloud.

“How the hell am I going to make _him_ apologize? You do remember who we’re talking about, right? If he won’t apologize for things that happened centuries ago, what makes you think he’ll feel enough remorse over what happened while I was asleep?” The dæmon returned to the mirror, eyes narrowed.

“He has to!” it declared. Seras arched one brow imperiously and it glared back with full fervor. “Look, stupid—”

“Hey!” Seras exclaimed, offended. “Don’t call me stupid just because you take his intrusion more severely than I do!”

“Alright,” the dæmon conceded. “You’re just daft then.” Seras opened her mouth to argue and it cut her off. “ _Listen to me_ ; if he can’t bend his goddamn pride to make amends for being in a place he should never be, how is he supposed to contest with all those other men out there?” it asked, motioning in the general direction of the outside world.

“Well….” Seras faltered, scratching her hairline underneath the towel. The dæmon frowned.

“He can’t. He’s got to be willing to make concessions for you. That’s how this whole thing works, you know.”

“What thing?”

“Marriage, love, companionship; whatever you want to call it,” the dæmon shrugged. “It’s all the same.”

“Marriage is not the same as love,” Seras protested. “You can marry someone you don’t love. People do it all the time.”

“People may,” the dæmon agreed, “but not vampires. Whoever you choose, you’ll end up loving. Then it’s just a matter of what you want to call it.” Seras rolled her eyes.

“I don’t see how that can be,” she muttered.

“It’s not for you to see. Not now, anyway. But soon,” it purred, a darker light shining in its eyes. “Be patient, dear.” Seras looked away uncomfortably. She didn’t like that expression on the dæmon’s face. It was a part of her she didn’t enjoy seeing, a part that was a little too much like the rouge vampires that fell under Hellsing’s blade and bullets. The look in their eyes matched the look that twisted the dæmon’s features, turning her familiar face into something frightening.

“So…uh, we just go down there and confront him, huh?” she said loudly, trying to dispel her unease. The dæmon was quiet, but when she turned back to the mirror it had defaulted back to its normal haughty grimace.

“Don’t be softy like you normally are,” was all it said. Seras waited until it slid out of the mirror and took its “proper” place as her shadow, this time a regular woman instead of an animal _._

“Fine; you lead the way, then.” The shadow shrugged and stepped forward, Seras following behind as they made their way down towards the lower basement chambers.

* * *

She paused at the door to his chambers, her hand poised to knock. She bit her lip and looked at the ceiling, suddenly wishing that someone or something would happen so that she wouldn’t have to go through with this. Her dæmon was pressing down on her mind, urging her to go in and say her peace.

It wasn’t about the mind-stuff alone, she knew. And she understood what her dæmon meant, by ensuring her own privacy. She knew that Alucard had to be told that he couldn’t just barge into her personal life and psyche anymore, and she knew that he had to _comprehend_ that as well. It wouldn’t do to just say it and have him disagree, or not understand.

And he _would_ disagree. She was certain of it. He didn’t take lightly to the fact that he had to obey orders at all; of course, he obeyed Sir Integra, but that was only because he had to! And who was she to tell him that he couldn’t do something? Why, just two nights ago she was still his servant, and they shared a mind!

Yet, she knew that her dæmon was just trying to help her. She didn’t know much about vampire culture, even as old as she was. She was still a child, compared to some vampires who had lived countless lifetimes by now. And Alucard was very, very old. He was probably one of the oldest vampires still alive. The thought was staggering.

                But while she was still a novice, she knew that her dæmon was a creature of old, one who knew more about the universe than she did, in its own way. She knew that it knew more about what was going on than she did, and she knew that she should trust its judgment in these matters. Besides that, she knew enough about vampire culture to know that when you gained independence, there were certain things that changed. She was entitled to her privacy, now. Before, she was his servant and he could do with her as he pleased. Now, she’d earned that privilege.

                She knew that he shouldn’t have been poking around in her mind. She knew that the way he acted last night was completely out of line. She knew that she didn’t like the fact that he still forced himself on her, even though she’d told him to go away. And she knew, above all things, that she should tell him all this and make him understand exactly where she drew the line. Otherwise, he would keep overstepping his boundaries.

                Yet, something about it made her hesitate and think. A part of her liked the fact that he’d infiltrated her mind; she liked the thought that he wanted to know more about her and what she thought about. She liked that he seemed to be unable to keep his hands off of her. She liked that he wanted her, in some way. It made her heart flutter in her chest, in a way that it hadn’t done since it had stopped beating all those years ago.

                _Are you sure_? she asked, licking her lips. The dæmon sighed exasperatedly in her mind.

                _If you cannot do it, let **me** talk, _it replied firmly. _I’ll be harsher than you, but I bet I get the message across better._ Seras shook her head. That was the last thing she needed, for her dæmon to be in full control. She was sure that it would end up goading Alucard into a fight, as fiery as it was.

                _No, I don’t think that’s the best idea,_ Seras murmured, gulping. _You’ll just get me into trouble and then scurry away, leaving me to get out of it all by myself_. She felt the dæmon consider the words with a measure of amusement as she closed her eyes. She had to do this, no matter how much her heart fluttered. Until she did, there would be nothing but strife. She steeled herself, trying to tap into her inner fury.

                She didn’t rouse enough fury in herself, but her dæmon had more than enough for the both of them. At the thought of what he’d done, she felt the creature’s anger and frustration in her mind, and she tapped into that instead. She managed to get herself irritated enough that when she opened her eyes, she bypassed knocking entirely and flung the door open, striding into the room with a scowl on her face.

                Alucard was sitting in his large chair, staring dejectedly at the wineglass in his hand. At the commotion caused by the heavy door slamming against the stone wall, he looked up with a surprised expression. Perhaps he was surprised at the fact that she didn’t knock after all, or it may have been that he was surprised to see her at all after what happened yesterday. Seras didn’t care; she was already on an adrenaline high from the dæmon’s rage.

                “You…you….” She started, pointing at him as she tried to come up with the proper terms. It didn’t help that the dæmon was shouting insults in her mind that would get her killed if she said them aloud. Finally she crossed her arms and glared as stonily as she could muster. “I’m getting bloody well fed up with you!” she asserted.

                _Is that really all that you’ve got_?! the dæmon howled. Seras sniffed as she stood boldly before Alucard’s gaze. He stared up at her, his brow furrowed as he scrutinized her from head to foot slowly. Finally he laced his fingers and crossed one leg over the other, tilting his head.

                “What are you talking about?” he asked in a bored tone, as if she was beneath him and not worth his time. That _did_ make her feel angrier, and she cleared her throat and pointed accusingly at him again.

                “Y-you need to apologize to me, for what you did last night. Also, for coming into my mind when I was asleep; my dæmon told me that you were going where you shouldn’t. I think that you should tell me you’re sorry, because you knew that—”

               “I don’t care,” he interjected coolly. She faltered, her mouth hanging open as she tried to think of what to do next. Her anger turned immediately to hurt and she felt a lump beginning to grow in her throat.

                “Well,” she began, trying to think of the proper way to end the encounter in her favor before running off to stew. Her dæmon was writhing in rage in her mind, nearly unholy with the pure wrath it was giving off as it ground its teeth audibly.

                _That’s it,_ it seethed, and Seras felt so _strange_. She had never felt it before, but realized what it was the minute it happened. The dæmon was literally pushing her soul to the side, trying to take the reins of her body instead of lying in the back of her mind like it normally did.

                _What are you doing_?! She cried mentally, feeling a combination of terror and confusion.

                _You are being **soft** , _it hissed. She struggled to regain control and its tone became reassuring. _I will not get you in trouble. I promise—you have to do it this way, or we’ll never have any peace._

                _But-but-_

 _If it doesn’t work,_ the dæmon continued, continuing to calm her with its soft timbre, _I promise I’ll never try it again. But it **will** work. _ Seras paused and then tentatively backed away to the side, letting the dæmon take over while still trying to maintain some control. If things went south, she wanted to be able to get back into the driver’s seat, as it were.

                “I don’t give two shits if you don’t care.” Seras heard that it was her voice, and the words came out of her mouth, but they were _not_ her thoughts. _Is this how my dæmon feels all the time?_ It was so bizarre to see and feel everything going on without being in control of her own actions or voice. Her hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled it up, looming over his body like a bully in a schoolyard.

                “You listen and listen good,” the dæmon continued, and she heard the telltale difference in the speech and inflictions that the creature gave her voice. Did Alucard notice a difference? He was certainly taken aback by her gall, at least. He hadn’t thrown her through a wall for daring to lay a hand on him; in fact, he seemed rather stunned—or at least puzzled by her abrupt change in behavior.

                “You’ve been schlepping around where your fat head doesn’t belong, and I’ll be damned if I let a lowbrow male like you into _my_ mind again,” the dæmon said, voice a low growl in Seras’ throat. “I don’t care if you’re a count or a fucking king, or whatever the hell you like to call yourself now.”

“As far as I’m concerned, if you don’t _care_ ,” it barked, yanking at his shirt and bending lower until they were nose to nose, “then you have no business trying to get into my pants. Figure out where you want to be, and what you want to do, because to me you’re just another obstacle in my way right now. And I will not hesitate to go to any lengths to make sure that your ass stays _out_ of my way, even if I have to consult higher powers. _Capisce_?”

Alucard’s eyes, which had been narrowing further and further throughout the entire tirade, now blazed with a hellish light. Seras saw herself reflected in them, her face a mask of cold indifference and disgust. Then he stood suddenly, his hand grasping her wrist painfully. She gasped out in her mind, but the dæmon made no sound. It looked down at the bruising skin, and it listened for a moment to the cracking bones.

“Get your filthy hands off me, male,” it finally ordered. Alucard’s mouth twisted in a snarl and Seras screamed as his hand crushed her wrist, bones snapping beneath the pressure. The dæmon still made no sound, but Seras’ leg moved and she kicked his legs out from under him, pushing him back into the seat. “I said: _get off_.”

Alucard made a move to speak, but the dæmon continued as if it didn’t see him. “You better get used to being ordered around, if you want to try to get _me._ I don’t play games like my simpering little host. I just want to you be aware of that. If you wanted a pretty little pet, go find some willing whore and jump _her_ bones instead.”

Seras was whimpering in her mind, wishing that she could caress her broken wrist. She just got her arm back two days ago, and now it was broken! She could skin her dæmon alive, if it had a body of its own! The dæmon purred gently to her, but Seras didn’t care. It clearly hadn’t worked—Alucard had hurt her, and now she had to deal with her bones healing. She sincerely hoped that being a true creature of the night meant that her body healed faster than it did before.

She was shaken out of her self-woe thoughts by low laughter. She saw Alucard’s shoulders shaking, and he made no move to get out of the chair. She was befuddled. Wasn’t this the part where he was furious with her, and ripped her limb from limb? He’d done it to countless other people. She was no exception to the rule—she’d disrespected him, knocked him down, cursed him and wrote him off as though their past history had meant nothing. Well, her dæmon did, anyway.

She waited for his dogs to eat her alive, or for him to call forth his familiars to torture and maim her. Perhaps he might take pity on her and shoot her through the heart with his gun, before standing over her and making some derisive comment about how she had to die twice in the same way. But he just sat there and chuckled, as if he was highly amused at some joke she’d just told him. The dæmon kept its air of calm, and Seras was for once glad that it had taken a front seat and kept her outer appearance steady.

“Police Girl,” he laughed darkly. He looked up at her, making no effort to hide the burning desire in his eyes. “No…now is the perfect time to call you Seras Victoria,” he corrected, his voice caressing the name in a way that made her heart do that annoying, lovely fluttering again. “ _This_ is what I had in mind when I made you; this fire, this _passion_. Where has it been hiding?” Seras was astonished. She had expected him to be in a murderous rage due to her dæmon’s harsh words. But he was turned on by them instead! What the hell?!

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the dæmon answered sarcastically, glaring down at him in the chair as he continued to chuckle. Her hand, the one that wasn’t ruined by a broken wrist, reached up to wind itself in his hair. Seras watched in fascination as the dæmon pulled the short locks, forcing his head back. Alucard stopped laughing, but the looked of pure mirth was still on his face.

“Apologize,” it commanded, no trace of either pain or humor in its voice. The smile remained, but when her fingers tightened threateningly in his hair it faded along with the chuckling, and he regarded her thoughtfully.

“I did not enter your mind last night on purpose,” he said finally. “As for what happened before that—I have no regrets, nor any intention of expressing them.” Seras scoffed; if that was what he considered a proper apology, then he had a lot of work to do. Her dæmon was still in control, and it let go of his hair, hands hanging by her sides. She felt hands on her thighs, but the dæmon made no move to knock his groping fingers away. “Come and sit with me awhile, Seras,” he offered, a strange light in his eyes.

“No,” it responded icily. “I don’t think I will.” It turned and walked her away. “I have things to do, you know.” Seras wanted to add that she’d see him later, but the dæmon had no more to say, apparently. It walked out of his chambers and back to her room, and to her immense surprise she wasn’t followed. When it reached her room, it shut the door and made its way back to the table. By the time she realized she was in control again, it was in the mirror, laughing its head off.

“Did you see that? I told you it would work!” it hooted, holding its sides. “We played him into the palm of our hand! That’s rich!”

“Work!?” she shouted. “My wrist is broken, you pillock!” The dæmon stopped, wiping its eyes.

“It’s not,” it protested. “I held it still. See?” Seras raised her hand, seeing that the dæmon was right. The wrist was healed, and she rotated it without any difficulty. “You can heal as fast as Alucard now. Congratulations,” it teased.

“It’s still sore,” Seras pouted, and the dæmon rolled its eyes.

“So? Alucard’s plenty sore when he has to pull himself back together, I’m sure.” It cracked its neck, rubbing the back of its head. “It’s not a walk in the park to regrow limbs. Even so, your bones will heal but don’t go getting yourself shot to ribbons. You can’t do everything he can.”

“Why didn’t he shoot me to ribbons?” Seras asked, making a face. “You said enough that would have sealed anyone else’s fate.” The dæmon laughed again, but it was a kinder laugh.

“Because he likes us, silly.” Seras gazed blankly at the mirror and the dæmon smiled wickedly. “He’s such a domineering person in so many aspects. You never know—he might enjoy taking a submissive role.”

“Yeah, right,” Seras drawled. The dæmon shrugged.

“He certainly seemed to enjoy me pushing him around. I wasn’t sure if it would work, myself,” it admitted. “But he wasn’t responding to me yelling at him, so physical force was the next step. I knew,” it added conspiratorially, “that if I could just get him to respond, to _prove_ that he was interested enough in what I was saying or doing, that I could snare him. And then, you have to leave them hanging. That’s the only way to make sure he’ll come back.”

It cocked its head, grinning like a madman. “You see? It worked.”

 


	9. Moon Viewing

            Even as a human, Seras hadn’t cared for parties. She always felt awkward; even if she’d been invited she felt as though she were an interloper, someone who was somewhere they shouldn’t be. She never felt as if she’d belonged. She hadn’t grown up with the elegant teachings that Sir Integra had; the older woman always knew how to mingle and make small chat with others, while Seras always felt uncomfortable doing the same thing.

            And now, as a vampire, she still felt the same. The moon was still full, casting its bright, cool light over the earth and turning night into a shadow-filled parody of day. She had been invited to what the bushy-haired messenger had called a “moon-viewing”, which was apparently the vampire equivalent of a social. Jack’s coven was throwing it and she’d been invited as a special guest, courtesy of a messenger that had looked very out of place, dirtying Meadow’s spotless foyer with his unwashed bare feet.

            She walked among the vampires, her dæmon in its defensive cat form. It prowled close to her, not daring to stray more than a few feet away for her anxiety. The party was a strange mixture of a refined garden party and a family reunion of sorts. Some of the vampires who were part of the coven had old masters or good friends in England, and they’d been called out to see them while the coven still held ground in London territory.

            More than once she’d heard joyful shouts and found vampires greeting their old creators, who looked either pleased or put-out, depending on the former Childe’s reaction. She had to muffle her laughter when Kira, a vampiress she knew only by association as a bubbly, hyperactive girl, screamed and threw her arms around a man dressed in a frock coat with a stern expression. He had looked so surprised and confused that Seras, who had been standing by herself close by, had barely stopped from shrieking with laughter.

            “Zacharias! I missed you!” she squealed, the toes of her stilettos barely brushing the dusty ground. The man had frozen, sputtering before picking her up off his shoulders firmly and sitting her on her feet, brushing. He brushed off her sweater before scowling down at her.

            “Behave yourself!” he growled, and she wilted slightly in her heels. He sighed, looking around to make sure no one was staring at them (Seras, who had been alerted by her dæmon, tactfully looked the other way). “I have missed you as well, but we’re nobility and we must behave as such. Now, tell me about your travels.” She perked back up and squeezed his gloved hand in both of her own, dragging him off to the side and launching into a long winded tale.

            Seras moved along, listening to snatches of conversation, stopping more than once to be introduced to this one’s sire, this one’s best friend, this one’s former Childe…. Her head swam with names and faces. Finally she managed to get by herself again and sighed, leaning against a tree.

            “Overwhelmed, Police Girl?” Squeaking in alarm, she jumped back from the dark shade of the leaves and into the moonlight, her dæmon going on the offensive as a bear before reverting to a fox as she realized it was only Alucard.

            _Of course it’s only Alucard,_ her dæmon remarked snarkily. _No one else here would dare address you as “Police Girl”. They don’t even dare address you as “Seras”._ It was true; all night, she’d been introduced as “Lady Victoria,” and it was somehow known without being spoken aloud that she was above all of them in terms of blood and nobility. No one crossed her, but they also didn’t seem to say too much.

Perhaps they were afraid of saying the wrong things. It didn’t matter; if they _had_ said the wrong thing, it was highly unlikely that Seras would have ever noticed it. She wasn’t high-bred; she was used to everyone saying whatever they liked without caring whether your feelings were hurt or not. More than likely, they were more afraid of offending Alucard than they were offending her, anyway.

“What are you doing here?!” she yelped, surprised by his attendance. He wasn’t one for parties any more than she was. He was antisocial as they came; half the time, she was sure he only talked to her because it was necessary to daily life that they communicate. Well, up until this past few days, anyway.

He stepped into the moonlight as well and looked her over, an amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She stared back defiantly, certain that her cheeks were glowing pink in the night with her embarrassment at being caught off guard. _Why didn’t you tell me he was here?_ she asked her dæmon in mortification.

 _Like I knew?!_ it replied, nearly as shocked but hiding it better. _I’m busy trying to keep track of everyone else; his dæmon was just a shadow in the crowd._ She scowled and the dæmon sniffed, the fox tail rising ever so slightly as it sat on its haunches and looked away haughtily at the other crowds mingling about, clearing ignoring the intruders to their solitude. She glanced down at his dæmon; it was a nondescript wolf, its ears pricked as it rested disinterestedly at Alucard’s feet.

“The same as you,” he drawled, tilting his head slightly as he stared down at her. “I was invited. It’s bad form not to show up, you know,” he added jeeringly. She rolled her eyes before she could think better, and he frowned at her. “You’ve become very disrespectful lately,” he growled under his breath, but she caught it anyway.

“Sue me,” she snapped. “Since when do you care about form, anyway?” His dæmon bristled slightly and he made as if to step forward, but seemed to think better of it. _Is he concerned about making a scene at a party?_ she thought incredulously.

 _More like he’s concerned that people will see he can’t control his own former childe,_ the dæmon laughed. _Or, maybe it’s something else…_ it added as an afterthought, voice pensive.

“It’s a beautiful night,” he purred, avoiding her question blatantly. “And I’ve been meaning to talk to some people, and since they’re all gathered together I thought it would be best to hit all the birds with one stone.” She hummed mockingly, not believing a word he said.

“Or maybe you just couldn’t stand the thought of me being out on my own, surrounded by other men.” To her surprise he gave her a scornful glare, nose snarling slightly.

“On the contrary,” he replied. “I could care less.” She huffed, and her dæmon turned into a hissing cat before deliberately stalking away. She crossed her arms and bit back a reply, not wanting to end the night with a few broken bones. He might let her get away with being a little rude to him, but even she knew that there were limits on what he would and would not take from her.

 _Perhaps that’s why he lets me be like that in the first place; because he knows I know when enough is enough._ Her dæmon didn’t answer, still off somewhere fuming by itself. She sighed, brushing the slight hurt his comment had caused to the back of her mind. Alucard looked out over the party, his glasses catching the moonlight and blinding her for a moment before he turned his head.

 _He’ll regret ever saying that_ , her dæmon finally said quietly, and Seras uncrossed her arms, her head unconsciously turning in the direction it had gone. It sounded like it was about to cry. She felt her heart sink and tried to divide her attention between Alucard and the dæmon equally.

 _Oh, grow up_ , she finally barked irritably as she turned back to Alucard. _It’s not like there aren’t other options._ The dæmon whined and she nearly called it a spoiled brat before deciding to just ignore it completely.

“Well,” she said sweetly, smiling flintily at him, “if that’s how you feel, how about we walk down together? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind introducing me to a few people that you knew before.” His eyes flashed angrily, but he didn’t argue and instead motioned her ahead of him. She stepped forward and they walked away from the tree and back into the crowds.

People moved out of his way as he brushed through the mingling vampires, Seras matching his stride. A man in a periwig called to him and he stopped, allowing the man to bow deeply before they began to talk about debts that someone owed. It was rather boring and Seras found her mind wandering, looking around for something interesting happening. Even if they were vampires, it was fun to just people-watch. They were as varied as any humans were. ‘

She inched away before breaking off from their little “group” completely, with the intent of finding her dæmon in the crowd. She was stopped by a girl she had met a few times before and they chatted, Seras trying her best to ignore the murky yellow eyes that were only highlighted by the girl’s bright pink hair.

She felt Alucard’s eyes on her, but she refused to look his way and instead continued on her path, calling mentally for her dæmon. It wasn’t answering, and she felt its frustration that she was not quite as angry with Alucard as it was. She sighed and gave up, deciding that the dæmon would come back whenever it felt ready to. Besides, it might be a good idea to walk around without one for a while. If they saw the bristled fur and spitting cat shadow, the vampires at the party might get the wrong impression.

“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help noticing you over there,” a voice called out to her, and she turned to find the man she had noticed a few days ago, leaning against the wall of the greenhouse. He was standing alone, looking completely comfortable to let the other vampires swirl by him while he stayed aloof. She paused, wishing her dæmon was there to curl up her legs. It didn’t help much, but the position was good if Seras had to go on the defensive and the dæmon had to jump up to protect her vital organs.

But she had never gotten anywhere by playing it safe, not as a human and most certainly not as a vampire. She smiled politely and moved towards the man, watching him carefully for any sign of malicious intent. She had to be on her guard; handsome or not, this was a strange man, and if he was able to overpower her before her dæmon came, then she would be in a bad spot.

“ _What_ exactly were you noticing?” she replied with a playful grin, making sure her fangs weren’t on full display. She didn’t want to seem as defensive as she really was; it might offend this man, who for all purposes seemed like a friendly individual.

He tilted his head, a long jagged scar on the side of his face catching the moonlight while the rest was thrown into shadow. His eyes were a soft orangey-red, which fit in well with his olive skin. He brushed his bangs back behind one ear and shifted slightly.

“I noticed that you were with the King over there, and the two of you seemed to know each other well,” he replied, nodding towards where Alucard still stood with the bewigged man. “But you left their conversation rather quickly, and were walking through here all by yourself.”

“They weren’t saying anything I cared about hearing,” Seras explained, one eye still on the lookout for her dæmon. She really felt exposed without it by her side. She was surprised that while she’d only known it for a decade or so, she was more dependent on the dæmon than she’d been on anything else in her life. It was astounding.

“A pretty young lady like yourself shouldn’t ever be alone,” he remarked softly, and Seras couldn’t help but blush. She looked down at the ground, willing her cheeks to stop burning. The man laughed at her, but it wasn’t unkindly. “Tell me; how did you ever come to know His Majesty?”

“Oh, he’s my sire,” she answered quickly. “And we work together, but nothing more than that,” she added when the man’s eyebrows rose in astonishment. The man backed away to a point that was more respectful and gave Seras a deep bow, arm across his waist like Walter used to do, back when he was still around.

“I beg your pardon, milady. I had no idea you belonged to such a class of vampires,” he uttered, his eyes cast towards the ground. His dæmon, which up to this point had been a bounding rabbit, sank low to the ground as well in the form of a small dog. Its tail wagged submissively and she shook her head, hands coming up to wave around in the air.

“No, don’t!” she insisted, laughing nervously. “You don’t have to bow to me; I’m really not the bowing type, I swear!” Her dæmon, sensing her anxiety and nervousness, came running up as a cheetah before sliding around her legs and sniffing curiously at the air. The dog dæmon raised its head and they circled each other inquisitively.

“As you wish,” he allowed, straightening up as the two dæmons walked around together. Seras supposed they were speaking, for she felt her dæmon’s mind on something other than her. She moved closer to the man, putting the same amount of space between them again as she looked up at him shyly.

“What’s your name? I remember you from when I visited Jack last, but I didn’t have time to meet you properly.”

“I am Yoska of the White Cliffs,” he answered with another, smaller bow. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Y-Yoska,” Seras repeated, trying to imitate the man. “Yoska,” she said again, this time getting it right. “The pleasure is mine,” she laughed when he took her hand and kissed it, looking away with another blush. “You-erm, you weren’t here last time the coven came through.”

“You’re correct; I was not.” He let her hand go and stared at her, a small smile still on his lips. “I only joined the coven last month. For many centuries, I’ve stayed alone. But current circumstances….” He trailed off, his eyes growing steely. Seras cleared her throat politely, bringing him back from his thoughts.

“Well, I’m glad you did. Otherwise, I might never have gotten to meet you,” she said sweetly. He smiled and her eyes were drawn again to the scar running down his face. “How did you get that?” she asked bluntly, before her eyes widened. “Oh, sorry, that might have been rude to ask—”

“I don’t mind,” he declared gently, putting her at ease. “I enjoy talking about it, actually. Where I come from, scars are trophies of battles won.” He pointed at his face, his finger tracing down the scar. “I was cut with a sword, by my own brother’s hand, nonetheless. He was blinded by rage over the death of his daughter, and lashed out when we tried to stop him from going after the murderer and becoming a killer himself.”

“Wow,” Seras breathed, raising her hand and asking permission with her eyes. He leaned down obligingly and she ran her fingers over the edge of the scar, feeling the old wound carefully. “Did you manage to stop him?”

“If I didn’t, it wouldn’t be much of a trophy,” he laughed gently. “When he came to his senses, he was very grieved for what he’d done. Back in those days, there was no modern medicine, of course. I could have easily died from such a wound. But I lived, for the moment.” He rubbed over his neck, and Seras knew he, like many others, was feeling the phantom pain of puncture wounds in his neck.

“Who was your…” she paused, wondering if that was a bit too personal as well. Vampires in general didn’t mind speaking about their days as a servant vampire; it was like a human remembering their childhood, with a sense of fondness for bygone days where everything was new and amazing. But, also like humans, sometimes the question was perceived as being rude if you didn’t know the person well enough. However, Yoska didn’t seem to mind.

“My creator?” he finished her sentence for her, and she nodded dumbly. His smile became wistful and he gazed over her head before sighing deeply. “Her name was Euphrosyne. She was a Greek vampiress, very beautiful. She was like a second mother to me.”

“She sounds lovely,” Seras remarked. “Do you still see her, sometimes?” It was a question she often asked vampires who had gained their independence and took their own way through the world, leaving their old masters and mistresses behind. It was synonymous to human children leaving the nest, their mothers and fathers waving them goodbye as they sped off to find new worlds.

Many vampires, if they didn’t remain with their creators, did stay in touch. They usually spoke of looking up the older vampires whenever they returned to the country, or seeing them at parties like the one tonight. It was indeed the same as seeing old family you hadn’t had contact with in many years, although while humans may have only gone five or ten years without a visit, a vampire may go five _hundred_ years. Yoska looked sadly at the ground, shaking his head.

“I was informed about fifty years ago that she was destroyed in an accidental fire, along with a few other vampires who were also unable to escape the great blaze. She was trapped, trying to save a Childe of the one she used to call husband.”

“Why didn’t they phase out of the fire?” Seras gasped, her eyes wide. Yoska looked at her strangely.

“The Childe was not strong enough for that,” he replied in a low tone. “Not many vampires are, unless they are of good blood, or very old.”

“Oh…” Seras felt like an idiot. “I just thought that… maybe, she might have also been strong enough for that.” Yoska shook his head again.

“I’m afraid not. Being of royal blood, I assume that you can…?” Seras nodded, and he aahed in understanding.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” she said, turning away. He caught her arm and turned her back, looking gently at her.

“I do not mind,” he assured her. “It was a fault unwilling. I have every belief that whatever lies beyond this life, she is there also, and when I finally am able to sleep forevermore I will be reunited with my dear mistress. I believe she is there, waiting with her male, and his Childe that perished with her. One day, I will be there too.”

“That’s lovely,” Seras sighed, a smile on her lips. “That’s really lovely.” They lapsed into silence, looking out at the party. The people were laughing and smiling, enjoying a night under the moon. She felt eyes on them both, but she wasn’t sure who could be watching. Alucard seemed to be deep in conversation, this time with a man and woman dressed like they stepped out of a 19th century portrait. Between them, a young lady was standing politely, most likely the man’s Childe.

 _Who’s watching us?_ She asked her dæmon, who left Yoska’s dæmon to come stand by her as a she-wolf. It searched the party, ears alert and tail standing stiff. _Can you tell?_

 _No, but I feel eyes on us._ The dæmon bristled slightly. _His dæmon feels it as well._ Seras glanced subtly to the man’s dæmon, which had taken on the defensive form of a porcupine, strangely enough. Seras decided that porcupines were defensive; they stung with their quills, she supposed.

 _You keep watch; I’m going to keep talking like there’s nothing going on, to throw them off the scent._ Her dæmon conceded silently and she turned back to Yoska, a smile forced onto her face. He looked unsettled, but returned her gaze evenly enough.

“As pretty as you are, I’m surprised you’re not surrounded by men,” he said suddenly. It caught Seras off guard and she gazed incredulously at him before clearing her throat and looking back towards the crowds.

“Oh? Um, I guess I’m a little too much for them, you think?” she laughed awkwardly. He laughed good-naturedly and shrugged.

“I can’t say for them. I don’t yet know them all well enough to tell. But…”he gazed at her slyly. “I don’t think you’re too much for _me_.” He arched a brow and she bit her lip. _Oh, so that’s what he’s after_. Her dæmon heard her thought and laughed.

 _Do it_. The sentence, quiet and firm, was in full agreement with Seras’ own thoughts. She could see herself passing the years, laughing and growing close to this kind, gentle man with the misleading scars crisscrossing his body and running down his face.

“Well, you can most certainly try and find out.” Yoska bent forward, but before Seras could decide if he was trying to kiss her or not another voice rang out to their right.

“Oi! What does she want with a guy like you, you think? You can’t handle something that ferocious. You’ll get singed, mate.” Seras and Yoska turned at the same time and saw another man standing close to them, his dæmon a prowling tiger. He grinned at Seras, his teeth all white and perfectly straight.

“Who are you?” Yoska asked, his muscles tensing. The man ignored him and bowed to Seras, his scarlet eyes never leaving hers. He was built like a Greek god, all tanned muscle and angular face with hair so blonde it looked like it was white.

“How ye do, my lovely girl?” he asked with a wink, flashing another smile. She blushed, unused to someone so… forward singling her out. He didn’t come closer, but his dæmon strode up to hers boldly and settled before it.

“I’m fine,” Seras said uncertainly, wanting to back away and step forward towards him at the same time. He seemed nice, so far at least, and he was mouthwateringly handsome—that was always a plus.

“Well, you can be _wonderful_ if you chose to let me come along with you for a while. I’ve been watching you all night,” he added, and she realized with a start that it must not have been Alucard’s eyes on her after all. Her heart sank, but she pushed the feeling away. Here she had two very handsome men who wanted to try and be with her, and all she could think about was the one man who seemed to disdain everything that had to do with commitment? No way! She may be light-haired, but she wasn’t stupid!

“Oh, have you?” she said coyly, as if she hadn’t noticed. Her dæmon laughed in her head. _I like him_ , it said. _He’s plucky. Let’s add him to the mix, shall we?_

 _We don’t even know what his personality is like, other than that he’s a very self-assured bloke with a good-looking body. He might be a total jerk._ The dæmon huffed.

 _Do you think I’d let you be with a jerk? You should know me better than that, silly girl._ Seras felt like rolling her eyes, but didn’t want to send a message to the man. Instead she smiled and motioned him closer, while inside she was still chiding her dæmon.

 _Does the name “Alucard” ring a bell?_ she growled, and the dæmon groaned.

_Alucard isn’t a **complete** jerk. Even he has his redeeming points. And this guy is just really confident. He thinks it might be the best way to pique your interest. It worked, didn’t it? _

_Redeeming points my ass. You’re lucky I have to like you,_ she snapped, pushing the dæmon out of her head as the blonde guy knelt at her feet and took one of her hands in his.

“I have, my darling. My name is Jet, and I am in every way your humble servant.” He pressed her hand to his forehead, and she pulled it away after a moment, laughter bubbling behind her lips.

“Jet?” she giggled, wondering if that was really his name. She’d heard of people naming their kids silly things like that, but this guy…did he give himself that name? The man lifted his head and nodded solemnly, trying to stand and nearly falling backwards before steadying himself on the knoll.

“My full name is Jeffrey Norton, but when I was a human my baby sister couldn’t say “Jeffrey”. It came out “Jet-ty”, and so Jet’s what I’ve been ever since I was five.” Everything he said rang of truth, and Seras couldn’t help but smile at the story.

“That’s so cute,” she remarked. “You and your sister must have been very close.” Jet’s smile faded a little and he nodded, looking depressed.

“Yes, we were very close until I…”he paused, motioning to his neck. “In fact, I know it’s against the rules, but when she was on her deathbed, I snuck in there.” Seras didn’t know there were rules to that sort of thing, but she didn’t remark on it.

She could understand why maybe it was a bad idea to let any family you had know that you were still on the earth, and living as a vampire nonetheless. Still, it seemed a rather unfair rule. She tried to imagine living as she was now, and her mother and father still alive in the world. If it was against the rules to speak with them, what could she do? Watch them from afar, no matter how much it broke her heart? She was sure that if they had been alive, she’d have done something similar to what Jet had done.

“You did?” This was from Yoska, who had a deep frown on his face. “Do you understand how risky it was?” Jet glared at him presumptuously, but nodded.

“Of course I do. This was over a half-century ago, you know. I was young then. She had dementia—I was careful with it. I waited until visiting hours were over before I snuck in there, to see her. She remembered me,” he admitted with a sad smile. “She said my name… you know, never before being a vampire did I imagine someone old being beautiful. But they are, and my sister, lying there with her wrinkled skin and white hair…she looked like an angel.”

“I don’t blame you,” Seras said hastily. “I think that you were acting out of love for your sister. I can’t imagine watching my family grow old and not being able to share that part of life with them anymore. I mean, my parents died when I was a child, so I had no one when I was turned. No one but my master.” _Maybe I grew too dependent on him; because he was all I had._

 _Maybe he grew too dependent on you, because you’re all he has,_ her dæmon murmured philosophically. The other men nodded and murmured sympathetically, patting her arms with condolences.

“in the end, because we live so long, we all end up alone,” Yoska pointed out. “But it’s better for us to not go back to our old lives. We must learn to live without them,” he growled, looking down at Jet like the boy was nothing but a whelp to him. The younger man didn’t seem to notice, or care.

“Yeah, that’s what my mistress said too. She beat the hell out of me for going. You see,” he began, and Seras realized quickly that he was the type to launch into long-winded stories. “She was one of those ones who were supposed to be burned as a witch, in Salem? Well, I don’t know how the hell they pegged her as a witch, because she’s one of the most pious people I know. And that’s saying something, for a vampire.”

“Indeed,” Seras agreed. Most vampires were not affiliated to any set religion, although a few did believe in God and many believed in an afterlife. Even Alucard believed in God and the Devil—he just didn’t care about whether he was going to Heaven, or Hell, or somewhere else entirely.

            “And besides, she’s the kind that doesn’t breathe before deciding if it’s against the rules or not. So she’s always ragging me about something or another.” He paused thoughtfully. “I should go and see her soon. I kinda miss her. But…” he stepped closer, looming over Seras. “I don’t want to go there empty-handed. I’d like to bring back a pretty wife to show her.”

            “Well,” Seras chuckled uncomfortably, not knowing what to say.

* * *

And so it went, for the good remainder of the night, with more men coming every minute. She turned a few of them down, but mostly she accepted, just for some variety. There was even a woman who’s hoped Seras had to dash, although she did it as cordially as possible. By the time dawn was nearly ready to break, she had at least a dozen hopefuls swarming around her, speaking and squabbling with each other over who got her attention more.

            Seras had never had this many men fighting over her before, and didn’t know what to think. Her dæmon was a pleased as punch, but before she could really begin to enjoy it, it all went wrong.

            She had been laughing at Jet, who was having his palm read by another man who had just finished reading Seras’. It was all for fun, but Jet and the man were both trying to outdo each other in dramatics, which made for a hilarious display. She was laughing so hard that she was snorting, her hands over her face to try and muffle the unladylike sounds, when a shadow loomed over the entire party.

            “Police Girl, what _are_ you doing?” Still trying to catch her breath, she turned and came face to face with Alucard, who was bent down over her with an angry frown on his face. “I thought you were staying with me, in order to meet some people.”

            _Did he honestly **just** notice that I was missing?! _Seras thought, completely baffled.

            _I doubt it,_ her dæmon replied. _He just wanted an excuse to come break up the band. You were having too much fun, it seems._ Seras scowled and stood up from where they were all seated around the palm reader, who suddenly looked like he’d seen a ghost. Jet stared over his shoulder, mouth hanging open slightly. Yoska, and a few other ones who were clearly the most ancient out of the group, stood and bowed to the king. The others just stared, their faces mingled with terror and bewilderment.

            “I was laughing, obviously,” she replied, voice cold. “And I got bored of being ignored, so I went and found someone to talk to. _Lots_ of people to talk to, actually.” There were a few gasps, and Yoska looked as if he’d just seen her grow a second head. Jet nearly laughed, but one harsh glare from Alucard made the sound die on his lips.

            “Yes, you’ve seemed to gather quite a fan base.” He looked around at the men surrounding her. “I had no idea that your standards were so _low,_ Police Girl.” She couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her. His words stabbed her heart like a knife.

 _So low, so low_ ; it echoed in her ears. Her dæmon was trembling with rage, wanting to attack his dæmon and rip it to shreds. She clenched her fists, feeling claws biting into her palms. She could gouge his eyes out. She felt her fangs pinching her lower lip. She could bite his neck and rip out his throat. She felt a lump in her own throat, the precursor to hot tears. Her dæmon purred soothingly, but it didn’t help. That was about as cruel as he could be.

“Well,” she choked, swallowing back the sob threatening to claw its way out, “you better get as far away as possible so you don’t have to be associated with us, _Your Highness_.” This ripped a snarl from his throat, a sound that made every hair she had stand on end. A few of the men took a step back.

“ _You_ will always be associated with me. You were once mine, and mine alone. I refuse to let these pathetic worms have any connection with you, and through you with _me_.” So he was embarrassed to be seen with her if she chose one of these men, was that it!? She felt her sorrow turn to a burning rage and she cried out in frustration.

“I haven’t even chosen anyone yet!” she hissed, realizing that the entire party had gone deathly silent. Her cheeks burned in mortification as she looked around him, seeing everyone in the party staring in her direction. They all looked as if they’d never seen anything like it—they probably hadn’t, considering that she was openly defying the King himself.

“You will _not_ choose from these worthless vampires,” he commanded, and when there was a tiny murmur from the men he glared at them full force, his glasses missing. “Get out of here!” he roared, and the men immediately turned and ran. Seras’ mouth dropped and she grabbed his arm, jerking him towards her.

“Don’t yell at them! You can’t tell them what to do, I do!” she howled, unsure of where the words even came from. It was her dæmon’s thoughts, and she saw it as a bear again, bellowing silently as a shadow and swiping at the wolf, which was hunkered low to the ground, ears back as it prepared to strike and fangs bared.

“I am the King!” he shouted back. “They will obey me, and they will leave you be!”

“N-n-no.” Seras gasped again as Alucard’s eyes turned deadly and flat. He pivoted slowly, showing that Jet was still standing there. Trembling, but standing nonetheless. His eyes showed his absolute terror, but he still raised one finger and pointed to Seras. “Y-you can’t t-tell her w-what to do a-a-anymore. S-she’s n-not y-your s-s-s-servant! S-she can c-chose who s-she wants.”

“No,” Seras whimpered, shaking her head frantically. Did Jet not realize who her former master was!? He was going to be impaled on a tree limb and left for the sun! His words had just sealed his fate!

“What did you say, little boy?” Alucard’s tone was quiet, friendly almost. A slow smile was spreading over his face. The people in the main party had begun to lean away, women clutching their males, masters pushing their female Children behind them protectively, mistresses being “protected” by their foolhardy male Children. They all knew, whether instinctively or from past experience, what was coming next.

Yoska was also still standing there, but he had remained quiet throughout the whole encounter. He stared at Seras, seemingly waiting for her reaction. She was hyperventilating, not wanting to see the charismatic, clownish young man be tortured to death by the man she used to call her master.

“Stop!” she screamed when his fist came up. It froze in the air and Jet’s eyes focused on it, his face all color. Seras felt her body move forward, pushed more by her fear than any will she had. She pushed Jet out of the way, hearing his grunt as he stumbled and rolled on the ground, and put herself in his place. Once she was there, she had no idea what she was going to do next. Her mouth opened and closed, her mind searching for words.

“If you kill them, I—” She wracked her brain, trying to think of something that would be a threat to him. He was nearly impossible to beat; what did she have that she could use as leverage? Then, as she panicked, the answer came to her mind, along with a dreadful peace that made her want to cry.

“I’ll leave and never come back.” It was all she had. She hoped to anyone that would listen that it would be the one thing he would not allow. He stared at her, his smile faltering, before he laughed scornfully.

“And what makes you think you can run away from me? I could follow you to the ends of the earth and drag you back.” She shook her head.

“No. I mean, I’ll go home and kill people until Sir Integra strikes me dead with a bullet in my heart. It would hurt less than what you just said to me,” she added spitefully. “Or I’ll go jump into a fire and be gone in ten minutes, or I’ll stand here and wait for the sun to burn me to a crisp.”

The real implication of what she meant dawned on him, and he looked lost. His hand lowered and he continued to stare into her eyes, and she shivered as his gaze took on a strange light. He looked insane; grieved and insane! She backed away a step, but his hand shot out and he grabbed her upper arm, crushing it tightly in his fingers. She yelped as the pain blossomed up her arm, and then screamed as she was picked up and thrown.

* * *

She was thrown into darkness, and her dæmon shot lightning-fast beneath her body. She heard it grunt as it took the brunt of her fall; Seras felt like she landed on a soft mat, instead of breaking her bones on the cold floor.

Looking around and scrambling to her feet, she realized Alucard had thrown her back into his bedroom. She turned in a circle, eyes on the lookout for danger as her dæmon delved beneath her clothes and covered her body like armor. If he was to come after her with a killing blow, the shadows would stop it long enough for her to move out of the way (theoretically, at least).

“All you women are alike,” he hissed, and she bumped into him and immediately threw her body in the opposite direction. He lurked after her, his eyes like coals burning in the dark. She couldn’t see his dæmon for the shadows, and her own was shouting at her to face him head on, but unlike the other day it was clearly afraid as well. They’d managed to push him beyond his limits.

“How so?” she managed to squeak, trying to reach his chair. If she could just put it between them, it might slow him down long enough for her to make a break for the hallway, and Sir Integra. She thought about the Captain—he was weakened as it was; would he be able to stop an assault on her?

“The minute another man comes, you’re running off to him. You’d rather kill yourself than stay here.” Seras reached behind her for the arm of the chair, but he rushed her and she screamed, running around it and backing the other way as he followed, death in his eyes.

“No!” she protested, looking every way for an escape. There was none. The door was behind him, and she couldn’t reach the window in time. She was afraid to turn her back to him. “I didn’t want to leave you; you don’t want me!”

“Don’t try to turn this around, Seras Victoria,” he snarled, his eyes flashing as he said her full name. “You are in the wrong here, not I.” She sputtered, trying to find something to use as a weapon. She was on full defensive, but her mind was clouded with both her panic and her dæmon’s fear.

“You said you didn’t care if I talked to other men!” she accused, finally finding her voice. “You _said_ , and here you are doing the opposite of what you said, again! It’s….hypocritical!” _Contradictory is the better word,_ her dæmon advised, too late.

“So I am a hypocrite?” he asked, voice low. She reached the stone wall and her hands splayed on it, her eyes widening in dread at what was to come. The Captain, nor her dæmon, could stop him now. He was a madman, a sociopath…he was beyond furious with her, and if she was going to kill herself, he must have decided to do it for her. She closed her eyes, drawing up against the wall and hoping that the pain would quickly overwhelm her so that she could fall unconscious and die.

“You said you didn’t care…”she whispered, feeling tears beneath her lashes. She wouldn’t cry—she’d try not to, anyway. It wouldn’t do to have his last memory of her one of weakness. She waited for the first blow to come. And waited, and waited. There was a choking sound, and she opened one eye curiously, before opening the other, a new panic now in her eyes.

“Alucard?!” He was coughing like he was choking, and shivering like he had a fever. He looked like he might be having a seizure, or something. She gaped and reached out for him before pulling back, unsure of how to help him. Her shadows pooled at her collar and her dæmon whispered in her mind.

 _He’s fighting for control with his dæmon_ , it said, sounding impressed. _But he’s losing, apparently. Watch._ Seras did watch; she couldn’t do much else. Her astonishment was too great. Finally, the trembling stopped, and the coughing increased to wheezing before stopping as well.

Alucard’s body, which had been doubled over with the hacking, raised back up slowly. Seras tried to close her mouth, at least—it was hanging to her knees, she was sure. He shook his head, staring around for a moment before zeroing in on her. She couldn’t help but gawk at him; his eyes were softer somehow, almost childlike as he gazed at her through the curtain of dark bangs.

He blinked a few times, clearing his throat before closing his eyes and brushing his bangs back behind his ears. It cleared up a lot of his face, with only the shortest ones still hanging over his eyes when they opened again. Seras was frozen in place, unable to do more than watch as he cleaned himself up quickly. Then his mouth opened, and she strained to hear what the dæmon (for it had to be the dæmon; Alucard wasn’t acting like himself at all) would say.

“We—he—we,” he began, trying out the words aloud. Seras wondered how long it had been since the dæmon had last used Alucard’s physical body. Surely a century or more, since she couldn’t imagine him using it while Alucard had been alone at Hellsing. “We did not mean it.”

She blinked, trying to figure out what that meant. _He means,_ her dæmon clarified, _that they didn’t mean it when Alucard said he didn’t care for you talking to other males. You should have known that to begin with. I’m sure he only said it in order to keep from admitting the truth._

 _Shut up_ , Seras ordered, and for once the dæmon lapsed into obedient silence. She looked back at Alucard, who was still staring at her face. His eyes were boring into her and she looked away, her cheeks coloring.

“Seras?” It had to be his dæmon. He’d never said her name like _that_ before; warm and gentle, with the barest hint of an accent to it. “Seras, don’t—”

It paused, fidgeting, and then the next thing she knew she was wrapped in a tight embrace. Her cheek was smushed against the silky smoothness of his vest, the edge of his collarbone digging into her jaw. His arms were like bands around her shoulders and her waist, his face buried in her neck. She wiggled her arms free and tentatively wrapped them around his back, squeezing softly in contrast to his arms fiercely pressing her to him.

“Don’t leave us, my darling,” he whispered against her skin. _Oh, darling_ …Seras thought, cheeks on fire from the endearment. _Darling?_ Her dæmon laughed knowingly, spilling out from her clothing onto the floor like water from a bucket. Did that mean she was out of danger now? Well, save for being crushed by his overenthusiastic hug.

“You—you don’t want me,” she replied uncertainly, feeling that damn lump in her throat returning. He squeezed even tighter, and she heard something weird in her ear. She tried to figure out what it was when it hit her like a brick: he was purring, just like her dæmon did when it wanted to ease her worry or comfort her. It just sounded strange because it was out in the open instead of in her mind, and it was a lot deeper than her dæmon’s gentle, rhythmic sounds.

“Don’t think that,” he said, pulling back to stare into her eyes. She was a little unnerved by the ferocity in his gaze, and tried to look away. His hands wound themselves in her hair and gently tugged her back. “Don’t think it; we do. I—” He stopped, a strange look crossing his face and he shook himself again, scowling. “I cannot keep him away for much longer, unfortunately,” he pouted.

“Oh,” Seras replied, confused. It was like two different Alucards, saying two different things. Weren’t they supposed to be one and the same soul? Her dæmon snorted. _The soul can feel the same, but pride usually details what goes out of the mouth. Alucard is prideful; his dæmon, not so much so. That’s why it can say things that Alucard would never bend and say himself._ She looked up at him, but he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore.

“I must fix this… I must,” he muttered, biting his lip before seeing Seras’ eyes watching him warily. He smiled distractedly and ran his gloved fingers along her cheekbone before his expression became serious. He looked at her and an idea dawned on his face.

She didn’t even have time to say a word before her chin was tilted up and her lips were pressed firmly against his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my original author note for this chapter, I praised Hellsing IX and X being released in North America that week with English dubbing. I still hold by my remark that Dark Walter's voice was deliciously sexy.


	10. The Day After

            Seras had no idea how to react. She froze, her lips parting slightly as she gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. Her dæmon was as startled by the sudden, bold gesture as she was, and it was quivering delicately in her mind, uncertain of how to act or feel. She swallowed, finding it hard to do with your mouth half open.

            It wasn’t an extremely passionate kiss—hell, the chaste peck Pip had gotten out of her was more lust-fueled than _this_! He was just…there, pressing his lips against hers hard, but otherwise staying perfectly still. Was he gaging how she would react? How _should_ she react? Should she rear back and slap the shit out of him for pressing himself on her? Should she push him away and run screaming from the room? Should she kiss him back?

            She drew a blank and turned the question to her baffled dæmon. It didn’t seem to have any idea what to do either, so she was on her own. Finally she kissed him back tentatively, her hand coming up of its own accord to brush his bangs off her nose. Her fingers ghosted over his cheeks, feeling the hard bone. His skin, cool to the touch, but not hot like a human’s. It had the hint of warmth, of kinetic energy moving it, but at the same time no blood raced through his body.

            She pulled away after a brief moment, gently pushing his face back until there was a safe amount of space between them. She looked at him, her cheeks growing hot as she realized what she’d just been doing. She’d just let Alucard kiss her! _What do I do now?_

 _The logical thing to do would be to ask him why the hell he just did that,_ her dæmon finally answered, seeming to come back to its senses. His eyes were closed, a neutral frown on his face.

            “W-why did you kiss me?” she asked, feeling a hard knot in her throat. She swallowed again, her tongue darting out over her lips.

            “I didn’t.” His voice had lost that tender quality, and Seras felt a shudder run down her spine. Alucard was back, and he didn’t sound happy. She felt the dæmon creep closer to her, watching the ancient vampire warily. He rubbed the back of his arm over his lips as if to wipe the memory of her mouth away entirely. He opened his eyes and glared icily at her.

            “A-Alucard,” she gulped, eyeing the door again. “Ah, um, you….” What was she supposed to say!? If she mentioned his dæmon, he would be angry for her bringing up the fact that he couldn’t control his own body. And she wouldn’t do that anyway; she didn’t feel comfortable talking about the creature—etiquette prevented that. But she felt that it wouldn’t do her much better to just get up and leave. Even if he would let her go, there’s no telling what would happen later on.

            “Get out.” The command was so quiet that she nearly missed it. She stared openmouthed at him for a moment, trying to decide if she should obey him or not. _I say not_ , her dæmon offered helpfully. _Just kiss him again if he tries to force you to leave,_ it added cheerfully.

 _I didn’t kiss him; his dæmon kissed me. I shouldn’t have even been talking to his dæmon. That wasn’t right,_ she proclaimed with a miserable, heart-sinking feeling. Even if his dæmon had initiated conversation, she should have found an excuse to keep from speaking to it. Then again, she’d only said five or so words to the creature that had spontaneously taken over its host’s body. But the more she thought about it, the more unnerved she became.

            “But—”

            “ _GET OUT OF HERE!”_ he roared, and she tensed as the loud voice echoed around the basement and made her ears ring.

            “FINE!” she shouted back, her confusion giving way to anger. He didn’t have to yell at her like that; it was all his fault, anyway! If he hadn’t have made such a fuss at the party, nothing would have happened! “I should leave, before you really decide to kill me this time!” she stood, snarling angrily at him as her dæmon became an arrogant feline form and stalked to the door with its tail in the air.

            “You walk a thin line, Police Girl,” he warned, voice dark with violence. “I’ll only allow you so much; you _will_ talk to me with respect.”

            “I’m giving you all the respect you deserve,” she retorted coldly. She turned and walked away, sashaying her hips as her dæmon growled in her mind.

            “Don’t think this is over,” he added.

            “Oh, just go to Hell!” she snapped, turning at the door. “And… don’t come back!” she slammed the door, the sound nearly busting her eardrums in the narrow corridor. She ran back to her room, slamming that door shut too before collapsing on her mattress and screaming into the pillow.

            “That man has some control issues,” her dæmon announced from its designated spot in the mirror. “And you could have asked me for a better comeback line, you know. “And don’t come back”? That was weak.” It paused, but Seras didn’t even look up from her pillow. “Maybe something like “Send the Devil my regards”… no, that doesn’t sound quite right either.”

            “Don’t you ever shut up?” Seras moaned, and it regarded her with astonishment.

            “Are you crying?!” it squeaked incredulously. “Whatever’s the matter now?” Seras looked up at that, twin trails of crimson streaking down her cheeks and making her look like she had cheap Halloween makeup smeared across her face. The dæmon tutted sympathetically. “Come now, girly. It’s not so bad. He tried to kill you; so what? He didn’t go through with it, you know.”

            “Why can’t he just say if he likes me, or if he hates me? Why can’t he make up _his_ _damn mind_!” she shouted the last words, clearly banking on him hearing them even from his bedchambers far down the hallway.

            “Because his mind is split down the middle,” it replied matter-of-factly. “He’s in denial, really. Poor thing, poor thing,” it sighed with a wry smile, looking as if saying the words brought to mind an old joke.

            “Well he needs to hurry up. Tomorrow night, I plan on ending this idiotic pissing match once and for all.” The dæmon laughed harshly.

            “Believe me, the pissing match has barely begun,” it promised her. “Tomorrow, those vampires will fight to the death over you. Alucard wasn’t lying when he promised to rip apart every male that tries to take you. It’s a testosterone-fueled madhouse for a bit….well,” it added as an afterthought, “it would have been, if he hadn’t scared so many suitors away.”

            “Suitors!” Seras sat up, wiping her face. “They’ll think Alucard killed me or something!” The dæmon grinned and became shadows, slipping over the stone floor to the door.

            _I will let their dæmons know you are alive and unharmed. Shall we meet them by that tree again tomorrow?_ Seras nodded and it slid beneath the crack in the door and was gone. She curled up on the bed, wiping the trails of tears off her cheeks and closing her eyes, melancholy blossoming in her dreams as she dropped off to sleep.

* * *

            “Damn you!” The mirror was split, the gloved hand cut by shards of glass that shattered everywhere. The dæmon looked at him through the cracks, its face on every shard lying scattered across the bathroom floor.

            “Calm yourself, for God’s sake! I had to do _something_ ; you were about to kill her!” it shouted back, becoming uncharacteristically angry in return. Alucard’s boot slammed onto the nearest shard and it crunched with a sound that was all too satisfying.

            “ **Enough**.” It’s voice was not more than a mutter, but it was echoed by every reflection until it thundered, and the dark intensity that showed in the dæmon’s eyes was enough to make Alucard stop in his tracks. “I said… _calm down_.” The dæmon took a deep breath, the many reflections’ chests expanding in perfect sync with one another.

            “You’ve ruined me,” Alucard finally spoke, staring at his cracked reflection in the shards left on the wall. “You’ve completely ruined me.”

            “You ruined yourself, _tâmpit,_ ” it replied insensitively. “Honestly, you can’t go losing your temper over everything that girl says.”

          “It’s not what she said, it’s what _you_ said, after you hijacked my body like some sort of disgusting parasite.” The dæmon aahed.

            “Now we get to the root of the problem. You’re disgusted with yourself.” Alucard snarled ferociously and turned on his heel, slamming the bathroom door shut and throwing himself into his chair, a glass of wine appearing in his hand.

            _Don’t deny it; you just said it yourself,_ the dæmon continued, slithering lazily along the wall as a long, sinuous ferret. _Tell me, why are you disgusted at me?_ it asked, curious.

            “The way you treated _her,_ ” he hissed, and he heard her yell out distinctively “ _his damn mind!”_ Was she also arguing with her dæmon? What could _they_ possibly being arguing about? “Gentling her, kissing her… you even called her “darling”,” he growled, his nose wrinkling in repulsion.

            _You called her “dear” before. If I remember correctly,_ it purred haughtily, _you also called her darling before, to that traitor Walter C. Dornez. Would you really talk behind her back, and not say the same things to her face? Shame on you, Vampire King!_ it chided, blatantly mocking the way van Helsing used to speak to him, back when the old codger was alive.

            “How dare you,” Alucard grumbled, but the bite wasn’t in his words. He drank the entire glass of wine in a few gulps and sat it down before glaring sullenly at the wall. The dæmon was quiet, being far better to its host than the latter was in return. The room became dark and gloomy as the lone king called shadows to his throne, stewing in anger.

            _Her dæmon has gone to alert the others that she still lives,_ his dæmon informed him curtly. _Also, to say that “her plan” is continuing tomorrow night. Shall we go through with it, or not?_ It was leaving the choice to him, although it was clear from the dæmon’s actions which direction it would like to take things.

            “Will she even still want me there, is a better question,” he replied vaguely. His dæmon laughed gently, shadows rubbing over his legs and curling up around his shoulders in a soothing fashion.

            _Pouting, are we? Or have you become dejected by now?_ It teased, before purring softly until Alucard’s shoulders relaxed and he slumped slightly in the chair, a hand rubbing his chin. He sighed heavily, rubbing the same hand over his tired eyes.

            “Why did I even create her?” he asked his dæmon quietly, shaking his head.

            _Why indeed,_ the dæmon replied affably, a smile in its voice. _I believe that once, you summed it up as whimsy. Another time, you said that it was a reward for her courage. But we both know the real answer, don’t we?_

            “ _I_ don’t know.” He suddenly felt exhausted. He could crawl into his coffin and sleep for a millennia. His dæmon had fought against him, and the struggle of fighting himself had wearied him. He had shouted at Seras, and now she was angry at him. She might not want to see him for a long time. He had no way of knowing, however; she was the only person he had never been able to completely figure out.

            _You **do** know_ , his dæmon argued quietly. _But no more about it now, you poor, jaded prince. You leave this to me. I will fix it; you are too weary to do much more to-night._

            “Your last “fix” only made things worse,” Alucard protested with a scowl. The dæmon huffed.

            _She kissed me back. She enjoyed it._ It paused again, and then the shadows weighed heavily on his shoulders as if the dæmon were physically pushing him back into the chair. _No more arguments tonight. I will not do anything more to Seras, if that is your wish. Tomorrow, I shall tell you how to fix this._

He obeyed with a sigh, closing his eyes and staying quiet. His dæmon hummed to itself, becoming a wolf and padding quietly to lie by the door, ready to alert him if someone should begin to walk down the hallway. It kept whatever thoughts it had to itself, and Alucard soon dozed off.

* * *

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Seras whispered, surprised that the words left her mouth at all, as dry as it was. She stood at the end of the long hallway leading to Alucard’s chambers, biting her lip, her hands fisted at her sides. “I don’t think he’ll be happy to see me,” she added unnecessarily. Her dæmon arched its cat form, shifting among the natural shadows that played on the masonry. The light flickered overhead as the dæmon passed, its concentrated dark powers sucking the electricity out of the bulb.

 _You will be fine,_ it promised. _We should have stayed last night, but this may be better. A day’s rest gave you a chance to recharge, and cool off. Him as well._

“Yeah, but—” she gulped, eying the dark hallway like she expected something to jump out at her any moment.

 _Come now,_ the dæmon chided. _There’s no time to waste. You’re not a coward; don’t let a centuries-old, half-mad vampire king frighten you,_ it teased lightheartedly. _He’s only an undead monster; surely that’s not scary._

“Oh, just shut up,” Seras hissed, obediently starting towards the closed door at the other end of the hall. She kept her hand on the wall as she made her way through the dark. It wasn’t to help her gain her bearings; she was drawing strength from the shadow keeping pace beside her on the rough stone.

Down the hall they went. The dark, damp air pressed down on her, and Seras drew closer to the wall as they approached the door. She stopped before it, looking at the impressive wooden structure that was so unlike the other doors in the basement, or even in Hellsing manor in general. It was a testament to time, and looked more like an old castle door than a door in someone’s home.

 _Will you knock_? The dæmon was pacing in anticipation, and the minute she knocked softly on the door it scrambled to the floor, hiding beneath her boots. She scowled down at it.

“Who’s the coward now?” she whispered fiercely, lifting one boot to glare at the quivering mass. The dæmon chuckled and she felt a strange sense of bashfulness coming from the creature’s mind.

 _I am anxious; I confess it. Should there be a fight now, in this dungeon…_ It let out a strangled mewl of fear. _I have doubts in my ability to protect you._ Seras sighed and knocked again, only a little louder, before kneeling on one knee to speak in a hushed tone.

“You don’t have to worry. I can call for Sir Integra; she’ll stop things before he goes too far.” The dæmon sniffed and she felt that it was offended by her words, somehow. “What?”

 ** _I_** _am your protector, not a weak human. You shouldn’t have to worry about being near Sir Integra for your safety._ Seras rolled her eyes, and poised to knock again before hesitating.

“Is he even in there? Usually, it doesn’t take this long for him to answer the door,” she stated, voice pensive. She bit her finger absently and the dæmon paused only a moment before slinking from beneath her boots. It disappeared under the gap between the door and the floor, appearing again as an otter swimming across the mismatched stones not a minute later.

 _He sleeps_ , it declared, and Seras frowned and stood.

“We ought leave him alone, if he’s still asleep,” she sighed. The dæmon crept along the stone beside the gap mischievously.

 ** _Or_** _we could go inside and wake him up,_ it offered. Seras didn’t answer and turned to leave, but looked back over her shoulder at the door. Beyond it there was silence, not even a snore. She licked her lips and turned back, swaying on her heels as she considered the dæmon’s words.

“We shouldn’t,” she protested, but her eyes grew wider and she inched towards the door. Her boots made no sound on the stone, she stepped so carefully.

 _We really shouldn’t_ , her dæmon repeated delightedly. She placed one hand on the door, pushing at it. She twisted the knob, but it seemed locked. She looked at her dæmon.

“We’d be very angry, if it were the other way around.” The dæmon took the form of a chipmunk and scampered up the door and into the lock, and a moment later Seras heard the click of tumblers.

 _We’d be furious. A complete breach of privacy,_ the dæmon agreed jovially. It slid up her sleeve and around her body. Seras felt utterly protected as the warm shadow enveloped her like a glove; like a moving, living suit of armor. The dæmon purred happily at the thought, elated at its host’s comfort. Seras tried the door again, and this time it opened easily.

“I can still turn back,” Seras muttered even as she opened the door just enough to slip into the room. She held her breath and looked around, a hand over her mouth to silence any accidental noise.

 _Too late now_ , the dæmon disagreed, tightening around Seras’ waist and peering beneath the hem of her uniform top. A shadowy wolf was by the door. It had no eyes, of course, but Seras could see that it must have been Alucard’s dæmon. _Some guard dog_ , her own dæmon laughed.

Seras was about to argue, but she shook her head and instead took a step closer to the nearly intangible shape. The wolf seemed asleep, head resting on its paws, tail completely still, but Seras felt a tremor run up her spine. She looked over at Alucard, who was slumped in his chair, his head held in one hand.

“Something’s not right.”

* * *

 _Wake up, you._ Alucard was instantly awake, his eyes opening the minute his dæmon sounded the alarm. _No! Don’t move_ , it added when he made a move to get up. _Seras comes. Let’s play pretend._

“Why?” he asked, barely breathing. The dæmon rested its head on its paws and its tail thumped once before stilling.

_It will be fun if we startled her. But, if we pretend to be asleep, she might go away. I haven’t had time to plot fully. I need more time, if our plan is to be enacted successfully._

“And what plan is that?” he muttered, but before he could get an answer, he heard a soft rapping on the door. He summoned his power and found to his satisfaction that the door was locked. Surely, if he did not answer, she would leave. “The door is locked,” he noted, and the dæmon looked at him with a nod of its shaggy head.

 _Alright. Keep quiet, and we’ll see how this unfolds._ It lay its head once again on its paws, watching the door. The knock came again, a little louder, and he stayed perfectly still. Then— _Quick! Shut your eyes!_ He obeyed, centuries of self-preservation kicking in. When his dæmon ordered him like that, voice tense, he followed its commands. It usually meant the difference between life and death.

For a long moment, he waited for his dæmon to tell him what was going on. Then, he heard Seras whispering lowly. He leaned forward slightly, trying to hear what was she was saying, and then to his surprise the lock on the door clicked and he heard the hinges squeak slightly as the door was pushed open.

 _Bold, isn’t she?_ his dæmon remarked amusedly. _Entering your room like she owns the place._ He peered beneath his lashes at the room. Seras inched through the door and clapped a hand over her mouth, peering at his dæmon. It was still a motionless shadow, but his powers had given it a 3D form and it lay against the wall, but not on its surface.

Now that the door was not between them, he heard her more clearly say to her dæmon, “Something’s not right.” She was looking at him now, but he didn’t dare shut his eyes lest she see the movement. He barely had his eyes open anyhow, and his hair was hanging in his face, keeping her from seeing his full expression.

Shadows slid from her clothing and amassed on the ground before rising on the wall as a she-wolf. It crept closer to his dæmon, sniffing cautiously before its ears went back, and then forward. It turned back to face Seras and the girl’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Well, if you’re sure,” she answered the dæmon’s unheard words, before walking almost silently to the throne. She leaned down over him, and it took all he had not to shout and scare her silly. It would be amusing, for sure, but he didn’t move now. Something stopped him, whether it was his dæmon’s will or his own.

“Alucard?” she half-whispered. She reached out to touch him, but seemed to think better of it at the last moment. “Are you awake?” She squinted, and then muffled a cough into her hand before scowling at the she-wolf. “No, I’m not going to _poke_ him. Are you mental?” She paused. “It would _not_ be funny. Now quit horsing around.”

He watched her face, astonished as she carefully reached out and brushed his bangs back from his face. He nearly grinned at the thought of grabbing her hand and making her scream. _Quit horsing around_ , his dæmon repeated Seras’ words, its voice squashed by the fact that its lower jaw was still firmly on its paws.

“You’re right, he is…” she murmured, tilting her head and gazing at him solemnly. She shook her head as the dæmon rippled across the floor and back beneath her clothes. “No, I’m not going to. He looks so peaceful right now.”

He couldn’t hold it in anymore. When she leaned in again, he opened his eyes as wide as he could. It had the desired effect; she screamed and scrambled backwards, falling on the stone floor and scooting back another few paces, her legs working overtime. He straightened up and his dæmon trotted over to him, laughing uproariously the entire time in his mind.

“Police Girl,” he sighed, wincing at the drained sound of his own voice. It made him sound old and sad, like a human. He tried to inject some roughness into his next sentence. “What do you want now?”

“I—er…” She was still in shock, her mouth hanging open. Her dæmon was hidden beneath her clothes in its most protective state. She blinked a few times and then stood on wobbly legs. “I just wanted to see if you were feeling better,” she said blankly, shrugging at him.

“I cannot feel _better_ ,” he sniffed. “I was never _worse_ to begin with. I’ve always been the same.” She frowned, her lips pursing and going off to the side. She suddenly looked like a carpenter, and he was her particularly uncooperative piece of wood.

“Fine,” she said ultimately, shaking her head. “I’m not going to stand here and argue with you tonight.” She looked at him again before turning to leave. “See ya,” she called over her shoulder.

 _Call her back, **call her back**! _ his dæmon snarled, pushing against his legs with its muzzle. He was going to argue, but before he realized what he was doing he’d half-risen, his hand held out to her.

“Police Girl!” She stopped, looking back at him patiently. _What now_? He hadn’t meant to obey the dæmon, but it was already done before he’d known what was going on. He looked down at his traitorous body, and his dæmon slithered up his back before dispersing and settling into his mind. _No tricks this time,_ he warned it. _I won’t have you mutinying again, dæmon._

 _Yes sir,_ the dæmon simpered mockingly. _I won’t, as long as you behave. Now listen to me, and say this as I say it. If you want that girl, that is._

“What?” she snapped, her patience waning more quickly than usual. She was still angry about last night, it seemed. As if it were his fault, and not her own for choosing to gallivant with all those men in front of everyone, when they knew who she was. It was completely and utterly reprehensible —she could choose stronger suitors than that.

“Last night….”he paused, growling at the words his dæmon poured into his mind. _I will not say that._

 _Then rephrase it as you will, but don’t blame me when you get attacked by an angry policewoman,_ his dæmon replied snarkily. He shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“What about last night?” She faced him fully now, her arms crossed. He cleared his throat.

“I understand that last night, your actions were unwittingly disastrous.” Her anger diffused into confusion as she tried to figure out what he meant.

“What?” she finally asked again, shaking her head slightly. He groaned internally. _Will I have to dumb it down so that even a child could understand? She’s an intelligent girl, but she acts like she’s deaf._

 _In her favor, you did say it in a convoluted way. If you’d just said what I **told** you to, then she’d have understood, _his dæmon countered.

“ _I said_ that I am willing to forgive your actions last night, because you didn’t understand what you were doing,” he growled, losing what little patience he had with both his dæmon and her. She gaped at him before her cheeks glowed a rosy pink and her face twisted in anger.

“I didn’t do anything to you last night! And for your information, I knew _exactly_ what I was doing.” He shook his head.

“You did not. Otherwise, you would not have disgraced me so.” Her cheeks turned a darker hue and he heard his dæmon laugh softly. _Quite a comely little thing, when she’s angry._

“I didn’t disgrace you at all. You were the one that made such a big fuss over nothing,” she argued obstinately. “I didn’t even talk to you beyond what you and I said alone by that tree.”

“No, but you chose weak-minded little fools as your possible suitors.” He paused, wracking his mind to find some way to make her understand how potentially embarrassing it could have been for their bloodline. If only she were a century or two older, back when people still cared about their family trees! Then it would have been so much easier to make her comprehend his words.

“I could have ripped any of them apart with my hands tied behind my back,” he added. She grunted in disgust and shook her head, running a hand through her hair.

“I know you could,” she finally admitted. “But did it ever occur to you that I wanted those people because of something other than brute strength?” She uncrossed her arms and they dangled loosely at her sides. “I liked their emotions, their minds. They were smart and funny and passionate about something. That’s why I let them stay with me.” She looked up at him sadly, and he could see that she expected him not to understand.

“Humor and passion will not be good protection for you when you’re attacked,” he pointed out. She laughed, startling him. She thought being attacked was funny?! How humorous would it be when hordes of Ghouls were swarming her, and she had nothing to fall back on but her chosen’s “emotion”? His dæmon snorted. **_Who_** _will attack her with hordes of Ghouls?_

            “Who’s going to be attacking me?” Seras asked at the same time, the same derision lacing her words.

            “Better to be prepared as not,” he replied. “Kingdoms have fallen from the same highhanded faith you pronounce so righteously.” His expression became dark and brooding, and he looked away from her. “I know from personal experience.”

            “And I suppose you were the attacker that proved them wrong,” she jeered. When he didn’t answer, he heard her exhale softly. “Oh.” He looked back to see her staring at the ground, looking thoroughly chastised. Now her cheeks burned for a different reason. _Just tell her,_ his dæmon murmured. _She won’t laugh. Not at you. Not after that._

            “Seras.” She looked up, eyes misty. _Why does she weep? I haven’t even spoken harshly to her yet._

            _She weeps for us, I think,_ his dæmon acknowledged. _She knows your life hasn’t been the easiest, for it to come to this._ Alucard didn’t even ask what it meant by “This”. He almost didn’t want to know, even though deep down, there was no denying it. _She pities us, not for our actions, but for the fact that we are alone._

            _I am never alone, she should know that_ , he replied harshly. _I have you_.

 _You could have her, too,_ it responded. He didn’t respond, but instead looked at the girl standing so patiently, waiting to hear him out when she could have just as easily left for the hills. He wouldn’t have stopped her, not at this point.

Perhaps it would be better to let her go with one of those weaklings. He could always protect her from afar, as a former master should. But the thought of letting her leave his side angered his dæmon and made his chest tighten strangely. He would have passed it off as jealousy, but jealousy didn’t make him feel so… regretful.

“My power…” he began slowly, looking down at the runes on his gloves. As long as Sir Integra remained alive, he was bound to her will, and the family. But when she died, as she inevitably would, what would become of him? Serving a master had taken up the past few decades, and he’d never been bored with watched the interesting nature of humans.

But sooner rather than later, that would change. Where would he go then? And what of Seras? Where would she go, if they were turned out of house and home by government officials. Or even worse, if they tried to destroy them both. He would survive, undoubtedly, but he had doubts for her. She was young yet, and while she _was_ stronger than the average vampire, she held humans in regard, and might hesitate to kill them. The price for such a hesitation might very well be her unlife.

“My power is one of the few things I have left to offer,” he growled, and his hands clenched into fists. He remembered how his fists used to look, clad in iron and clasping his sword as he rode to the battlefield, adrenaline in his veins. It used to be so exhilarating. “I have nothing else left inside me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand and shook his head. The weight of his years weighed on him, even without the millions of souls in his mind. “I know what it is that you want, but I cannot—I _do not_ remember how to give it to you. I lost those… other capacities centuries ago.” There was an intense silence, and he looked up to see her watching him carefully.

“You always make sure that you use proper language, don’t you?” she said suddenly. “You never say slang or mix your words up like I do. You take time to make sure that every word that passes through your lips conveys the right meaning.” She pointed to her own mouth as she spoke. “So….” she stepped closer, almost shyly. “If you’ve lost those capacities, like you say…”

“Yes,” he murmured. She smiled and looked up, blushing as she met his eyes.

“The opposite of lost is found, isn’t it? So if you’ve lost them, that means that you might be able to find them again.”

“It’s not that simple.” She stretched, her arms behind her head as she nodded in agreement.

“Whoever said that life was simple was a bloody fool,” she announced. She glanced slyly at him, stepping closer again and pressing one finger to his chest accusingly. “But didn’t you once tell me that resignation is what kills people?”

He blinked at her and she shook her head, tutting. “If you’ve resigned that this is as good as you’ll ever get then you should just go out there, stand against the eastern wall, and wait for the sun. Don’t you think?” She winked. “Or are you just a big hypocrite after all?”

He didn’t voice an answer, and she smiled knowingly before moving back and turning to leave. “I’ll just leave you to think about that, then.” She fluffed her hair and waved, heading for the door. “Come and see me sometime tonight, even if it’s just to watch the others, okay?” With that, she was gone.

“What?” he hissed, managing to slide down into his chair once more. _Resignation is what kills people_. Yes, he’d said that to her, and to Walter, too. But she’d used his own words against him. How had she managed that? Why did he let her manage it in the first place, when it had sounded so insolent? _What had just happened?_

 _I think we just got back into the fight,_ his dæmon confessed with some measure of approval. _Good job; you didn’t really need me after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is nearly at an end. Only… 3(?) more chapters to go? Somewhere along those lines. I’d hate to end this story on an unlucky 13th chapter. I might drag it out for 14. :0


	11. Battle Royale

Once again, Seras was beneath the lone tree on the edge of the field. She sat on a broad, flat expanse of stone that stood opposite from the empty fields that had, only a single night ago, been teeming with vampires. The breeze moved the wheatgrass around her, ruffling her hair and bringing with it the stale scent of London air and street vendors. It mingled with the clean fragrance of soil and nature, leaving a sour taste in the back of her mouth. She swallowed hard, trying to flush the taste off her tongue. It wasn’t the most appetizing aroma, even if the gyros and burgers had once appealed to her stomach.

Her dæmon lounged against the side of the rock in its ‘human’ form, hands in the pockets of its skirt as it looked over the empty expanse of land, still bearing the marks of so many feet the night before. It was quiet, pensive, in a way that was more uncharacteristic than the being she’d known before. Seras had felt for some time that she had been changing a little as a person; could the dæmon change too? Had the recent upheave in their daily life caused them to respond in strange ways? It was entirely possible.

“Are you alright?” she asked after thinking for some time.

 _Of course_ , was the response, and although it was short it was said in a manner of perfect ease. _Why wouldn’t I be?_

“Oh, you’re just being quieter than normal,” Seras replied offhandedly, knowing perfectly well that if anyone should come by, they’d see a blonde woman sitting on a rock in the dead of night talking aloud to herself. The humor didn’t pass her notice and the dæmon shared in her brief chuckle. “Do you think anyone will even show up?”

 _Oh, undoubtedly. Are you anxious about being jaded?_ It teased, the shadowy head moving slightly to look at her, though its current viewpoint would only show a part of her left thigh.

“Not really, but… Alucard might have scared them all away.” She sat up, elbows on her knees, head resting on her hands. The dæmon let out a breathy chuckle, shoulders shaking.

 _Do you think so?_ it asked, looking away from her again. _Perhaps there won’t be half as many as before, but male pride does play a role in these things. Not many would risk the shame of giving up so soon._

“But he’ll kill them; he said as much.” There was a strange sort of nonchalance that went with the thought. Seras felt that normally she’d have shied away from merciless slaughter of others, even when Alucard was involved. He usually took out his bloodlust on targets—criminals who had a reason to be brought down in the name of secrecy. But these were innocent individuals whose only crimes were ones of passion, if you could even say that. And yet… why did she feel so distanced from the fact?

 _You know,_ the dæmon answered for her, sensing her thoughts. _That’s why. If they show up here tonight, they come knowing full well that only one will make it out alive. They’ve chosen it for themselves._ Seras didn’t reply, but thought on the words. Choice was a big word in the vampire world. It influenced everything they did, and made up the foundations of their government.

Once Alucard had told her “You chose the night.” At the time, she had thought it unjust that he would be so callous to her, but having lived among ’her own kind’ for a few decades now, she realized what he had meant. She’d chosen to be a vampire; she hadn’t rolled over and died, or given up and offed herself afterwards. There was no one to blame for her actions other than herself; if she hated blood, she couldn’t hate him, or Walter, or Sir Integra for insisting that she drink it. She could only look inwards to her own heart and find fault there, knowing what a vampire was before she made the choice.

The Nazi vampires had chosen to follow their leader and attack London. Killing them had meant little to her. Likewise, she couldn’t find herself regretting the inevitable loss of life tonight, because they knew and had chosen to come against all odds. She regretted that anyone had to die, and she pitied those who were the weakest, but she wasn’t _sad_ at the thought. Maybe it was a cruel way of thinking, and maybe it was unjust in human eyes, but to vampires it was simply the natural course of life.

 _Ex-act-ly,_ the dæmon laughed. _Pre-cise-ly. He who chooses to stay out past dawn can’t complain of sunburn later. Or worse, he can’t complain at all since he’s just a pile of ash_ , it added with its usual brand of darker humor.

“You’re not funny,” Seras admonished, pursing her lips in an effort to keep a smile of her face. She hadn’t thought it funny, but the thought had occurred to her that, should she have said something similar to Alucard, he’d have found the exact same amount of humor in it that the dæmon had. That had been what made her lips twitch in a grin.

“Who’s not?” She jumped and twisted around, nearly falling off the back of the rock in surprise. She hadn’t even heard anyone come through the grass. To her credit, she had been preoccupied with talking to the dæmon….

“I didn’t hear you come up!” she squeaked, habitually deflecting the conversation away from the dæmon. “You don’t make a lot of noise, do you?”

“I try not to,” Yoska replied with a soft laugh. “Years of hunting and battle will teach you that silence means the difference between life and death. I can’t help but be sure-footed, even though the time for that is long gone.” He leaned against the rock where the dæmon had been; it had slunk off into the grass the moment Seras took her mind off it.

“You’re the first one here tonight,” she declared, though it was hardly necessary. She scooted away from him, putting enough distance to be considered socially acceptable, but ran into something solid that nearly knocked her off the other side of the rock. Looking up, she saw a flash of crimson and inwardly sighed. _So much for my peace_.

“Second,” Alucard corrected her with a sneer. “I was technically first.” She backed away from him, pushing herself back up the rock’s polished side. His dæmon, in its usual Lycan shape, snapped at Yoska’s hedgehog threateningly. The man didn’t flinch, the tiny dæmon becoming a raven and rising lazily into the air to circle high above the rock.

“Your Majesty,” Yoska finally greeted, inclining his head respectfully. “If you would, forgive me for omitting pleasantries and decorum this night.” Alucard smirked, but didn’t reply, the moonlight glinting off his glasses as he leaned off the rock and stood to the side, surveying the fields like her dæmon had done earlier. The wolf glanced at the raven once more, but sat demurely enough by its human’s side, looking just as regal and composed as the vampire king seemed to be.

 _Where did you go_? Seras snapped as she looked at the two men, both of them somehow managing to effectively ignore the other. The dæmon gave a rather girlish giggle.

 _Away. I don’t want to deal with them!_ it crowed mischievously.

 _Neither do I! But if I have to, than **you** have to. Come back here! _she replied with a harsh, audible sigh. Both men glanced quickly at her, but she didn’t look up from her lap. She felt their eyes bore into her, but after a moment they had disregarded her again. Their minds were more on the approaching battle and not her, for the moment at least.

The raven cawed harshly and the wolf turned its head, looking behind her on the rock before its tail thumped once. She felt a presence and saw a shadow-rabbit looking at her with scarlet eyes, its barely perceptible nose twitching. Her dæmon walked casually back up the rock, still in human form, and took the place that her shadow would normally be. It ‘spoke’ briefly to the rabbit, the sounds a rapid, too-quick-to-discern staccato in the back of her mind, and then the dæmon addressed her in a wry tone.

_That boy… the blonde, tanned one that nearly got himself killed last night. What was his name again?_

_Jet, well, Jeffrey,_ Seras replied hesitantly, sorting thorough names in her mind. _Why, was that his dæmon?_

 _Naturally._ The dæmon seemed to gather itself before speaking. _It had a message. “You’re a really cool gal and all, but it’s just not worth it, ya know? I hope we can still be friends, and I feel bad for standing you up, but the truth is that I don’t stand a chance against that crazy fucker and we both know it. I hope you’re not mad with me, and feel free to drop me a line if you’re ever in Massachusetts. –Jet.”_

 _What?_ Seras felt a stab of something close to irritation, but brushed it aside. _Well, his loss, I suppose,_ she forced herself to say, but deep inside herself she felt a little… let down. _Of course we’d stay friends, but—_

 _I know what you’re thinking,_ the dæmon finished for her in a sympathetic tone. _You’re disappointed. It’s a natural emotion after being rejected. But it **was** his choice, and at least he was polite enough to decline in person—well, in dæmon. _

_I guess so._

* * *

The dæmon had been right; about half the people showed up that had been there the night before. The lot was nearly empty, the men standing in groups, both together and yet separate. They didn’t interact with one another, preferring introspection over speech. They only eyed each other briefly, silently, peering quickly before looking at the ground or out across the fields.

Each man’s dæmon had an animal form, instead of keeping a human shape as her own did. Seras knew that it was a defensive measure—the animal shades that a dæmon took was effective in many things, and in part was simply another extension of the host vampire’s thought processes. A quick-thinker’s dæmon took forms of cheetahs and greyhounds, while a more studious philosopher might have a quiet housecat, or an elegant raven.

But animal dæmons were also a notoriously good way to hide one’s emotions. Of course, some things still bled through, no matter what. The canine dæmon of a nervous vampire might lie close to the ground, ears back and hackles raised in defense. The cat’s back would be arched, a silent hiss escaping from beyond the murky fangs. But, all in all, it was a much more effective way to keep one’s innermost thoughts quiet, for who would look so closely at a mouse dæmon to see what its owner might be feeling?

Personalities were read so easily through dæmons—it was no wonder that vampires hid them from other creatures with a fierce passion. What would Sir Integra think, what would she do, if she knew that the secret to truly domineering over her hardened vampire lay in the shadow on the wall, masquerading as a silent, unthinking mimicker? What would she give to know that sort of thing, to be able to look at it, handle it, and experiment with it? Even now, Alucard’s dæmon was still the large wolf form, sitting at his side. It showed that he was confident, that he didn’t feel the need to hide any anxiety from his foes; his dæmon was using one of the largest forms that it chose, towering over the others.

Yoska’s bird still flew over the heads of the others, and Seras did feel that he was reading his opponents with a bird’s eye, glancing at them quickly in his peripherals. The palm-reading carnie’s dæmon was a giant anaconda, looping over his tattooed shoulders with a flicking tongue, coiled and ready to strike at anyone who dared bother them. The librarian’s calico (a very unique dæmon form, as each splotch of ‘color’ was a varying shade of greyish-blackish shadow) curled around his legs, the tip of its tail brushing knobby knees as its dull red gaze watched the others.

 _I think that’s everyone_ , her own dæmon remarked, sidling up to her rock again and spreading out on it as a sunbather might. _You should probably get this thing going_. Seras looked down at it, brow knitting.

 _How? I’m not the one fighting; I can’t just throw a punch._ The dæmon snickered, but otherwise didn’t answer. She looked around at the men gathered; there might have been ten or so, ranging from her own age up to about forty-five. They came from all walks of life, all occupations, all with different cultures and stories. She’d picked them all for different reasons.

Yoska was calm and gentle, but he held strength and determination as well. Haram, the librarian, had a fierce willpower and an even fiercer strength hidden by his bony, unassuming exterior. Mikael, the carnie, had a giant heart and was great with children, though his body was covered in enough tattoos and muscles that even a biker would think twice before picking a fight. There was Tyrese the stockbroker, who had been attacked by a vampire in his prime and used his knowledge and skill-set to make a fortune by investing in blood banks. Matthew was a chef whose dream was to open the first five-star restaurant exclusively for vampires, selling homemade recipes that used fruit, vegetables, and blood.

Each of them was different, and yet they were tied together by the fact that something in their personalities called out to her, and their dæmons were compatible with her own. And above them all was Alucard, the king, who they were willing to fight just to be with her. It was hard to wrap her head around; no one had ever fought over her before. Hell, no one had fawned over her before, unless you counted the Captain. And yet, here was one, two, three… twelve men who had done both (Well, perhaps Alucard hadn’t _fawned_ , exactly; but he was here just the same).

Eleven of them were destined to die tonight. Only one could be the winner; there were no runner ups in this sort of love. It wasn’t romance, exactly; no, it was more like the law of nature. Seras suddenly remembered a documentary she had watched once on the wilderness channel, about animals and their mating rituals. Many of them fought to the death just like this, spreading blood and gore over the land before claiming the female. Did that mean that vampires were little more than advanced-thinking brutes? But, when she thought about it, didn’t humans do the same thing? How many murders were done out of love? How many men were beaten up in pursuit of a beautiful lady? Fights broke out all the time in high schools, in colleges, in workplaces, all over the same basic principle—the strongest, fastest, smartest beast gets the mate.

“Um….” Twelve heads turned simultaneously to look at her. She felt the full force of their expectant, all-too-patient stares and gulped, trying not to blush. She looked towards the tree, the leaf-laden branches almost, but not quite, reaching over her head. She pointed to one that was just out of reach, intending to use it as a pointer of sorts since she was apparently supposed to sort this thing out. “Can someone get that long branch for me, please?”

The librarian stood, and was immediately pushed aside by the stockbroker, only for him to be tripped by the carnie’s anaconda. The carnie had barely reached the edge of the rock when Yoska threw a heavy hand against his shoulder, already climbing the side of the rock with an arm outstretched. The carnie cursed and kicked out as he fell back, inverting the ancient warrior’s knee. Yoska hissed and stumbled, his hand barely missing the branch. Seras blinked in surprise as he collided with her, the smell of wood smoke and old sweat accosting her nostrils as his pants leg rubbed against her face.

The raven dæmon dove with a sharp screech, colliding with the anaconda and knocking it back off the man’s shoulders. It writhed as the raven impaled sharp claws into the shadowy skin, lashing out with its tail and knocking the feathered head back. Both Yoska and the carnie grunted in pain as the dæmons fought, and then once the man’s knee was snapped back into place the warrior dove onto the prone man with a cry of anger.

The librarian stepped out of the way of the fight, looking on with detached interest. His dæmon stood beside him, ears pricked and the fur on its neck rising slightly as the raven shot upward in with a caw, only to dive again as the anaconda launched itself at Yoska’s head. The other men jeered at the two rolling around on the ground, but when they shuffled forward and collided with each other another fight broke out between the stockbroker and the chef. Meanwhile, Alucard stepped calmly onto the rock and broke off the branch, handing it to Seras with a cryptic grin. She accepted it, but clearly she no longer needed it as they were already beginning to fight, and instead sat it on her lap, absently peeling the bark off with her nails as she watched.

A scream of agony pierced the general uproar and everyone stopped as Yoska pulled his arm back, taking the man’s heart in his clenched fist. The anaconda turned into a hedgehog, stumbling blearily away from the raven and to the vampire’s side. The carnie clutched at his gaping chest, mouthing wordlessly before his eyes glazed and he collapsed, turning to ash. As the fragments hit the dusty ground, the dæmon hunched in on itself and then simply blinked out, just as normal shadows do when the sun disappears behind a cloud.

Seras watched in mingled horror and fascination, realizing with a start that she’d never seen a vampire with a dæmon actually die before. No, that wasn’t true; she’d seen one die before, but she’d never paid close attention. The dæmon had just _went_ , the same moment as the vampire had died completely. It was supposed to be the innermost part of you, part of your soul. So when the carnie’s soul had vanished to wherever souls went after death, so had the dæmon. She was suddenly curious to know what happened next. Were dæmon and vampire reunited beyond the grave? Were they joined completely forever, or did they remain the separate yet intertwined beings that they were in this life?

Silenced reigned in the wake of the night’s first death, but not for long. The chef and stockbroker continued fighting, and another vampire rushed Yoska, perhaps thinking that the first fight had weakened the vampire. The warrior threw the vampire, using his weight against him. The vampire was going to hit Alucard, but dark shadows flared and the body was torn in half, passing on either side of the ancient king and landing as ash on the other side of the rock. Blood stained the tree, streaking across the rock along with ash and turning into a grainy paste. Seras broke off a tiny bit of branch and drew a pattern in it absently, not wanting to watch the escalating match between the chef and broker.

Hours passed; the moon continued her steady track across the starry sky. Men fought, sometimes loudly, sometimes with little more than the dull sounds of punches and groans of pain. Seras sat and listened, sometimes watching, sometimes looking at something else. Her dæmon was rapt at her side, watching the unfolding massacre with rabid interest. At her other side stood Alucard, not participating in the battle, but still watching it. He seemed to be waiting for something, and she realized that no one had picked a fight with him yet.

In the end, one man stood on the battlefield, chest heaving and clothing torn, a battered raven fluttering down onto his shoulder for a quick breather. He pushed his dark hair out of his face, his scarred visage looking frightful all coated in blood and sweat. Whether all the blood was his opponents are not, she couldn’t tell. There was a lot of it, mixing with the ash on the ground, splattered along her boots and on the rock and the tree, dripping from the branches, the heady smell of it hanging thick in the air like a fog.

“And then there were two,” Alucard said at last, breaking a silence that had lasted most of the night. He stepped forward, hair lengthening, shadows enfolding his body and spreading along the ground, turning into a cloak as dark as night itself, the inner lining crimson as the blood that surrounded them. The sound of metal clinking together filled the air, sending Seras back to a distant memory of another time when the scent of blood hung close to her, London aflame and a forest of men impaled on stakes branching high into the dawn-drenched sky. “Let us settle this the old-fashioned way, _războinic maghiară_ ,” he declared, his voice echoing in the fields around them.

Yoska gave a low chuckle, shadows reaching around him as well. While Alucard’s power flowed like a wave, wrapping anything and everything in its power, the warrior’s shadows behaved more like creeping vines. They wound themselves over his limbs, twisting and turning until they dissipated to show the other vampire had dressed in a manner more befitting his time as well. He wore tight leather armor that looked molded onto his body, moving with him like a second skin. His forearms and legs were protected by leather greaves, leaving only his hands free. Thick boots covered his feet and the rest of him was bare, giving him a sense of quick movement that the king’s armor didn’t have.

“I am _Yoska a fehér sziklái_ ,” he said as he crouched, his shadows amassing in his hands to become a long blade. “ _Isten a tanúm, meghaltok ma este.”_ Seras didn’t understand a word of it, but Alucard only laughed, the sound high and cold.

“God sleeps at night, my friend,” he replied. “No one witnesses this but the woman sitting on that rock over there.” The warrior made no reply, only crouching lower as one of the king’s gauntlets reached beneath the cloak and pulled out his sword. “Now, let us fight.” There was an almighty clash of metal as the blades met, the sound jumping off the far hillocks. They were too far out to wake anyone, but Seras’ ears rang with the sound long after the last reverberations left the countryside.

Metal clanged, met, screeched, slid against each other, broke apart. Again and again, it was repeated. Yoska was a living bullet, a blur dodging heavy blows quickly and parrying almost like Sir Integra when the woman practiced fencing with the younger Knights. Alucard, however, stood in place, moving only one foot at a time in order to swing the sword around, using his full weight to drive the blade home. Both men were nearly silent; the sounds of their armor and weapons creating a raucous symphony that hadn’t been heard for centuries outside of movies and detailed reconstructions.

Seras watched in awe, still seated on her rock. _They’re fighting… for me_. She still couldn’t understand it, even as she watched it play out. She couldn’t look away; Alucard was right. She was the only one who could witness such a thing. God wouldn’t look down and see this; two men who were supposed to be dead, fighting in a style from ancient times with shadows and dæmons jumping and arcing, the sounds of a battle to the death echoing in her ears and rattling around her brain.

Somehow, as she watched, she couldn’t help but think of his fight with the paladin, all those years ago. He had been much more agile, moving as though the armor wasn’t even there. Why now was he so still? They both seemed evenly matched, but maybe he was only warming up? Her dæmon grinned at the thought, manipulating its physical form so that the image was a gaping crescent moon in the midst of shadow.

They broke apart quickly, retreating to opposite sides of the field. They kept their eyes on each other, not daring to underestimate their opponent; both of them were breathing heavily, weapons hanging loosely at their sides. Seras wondered how they could be out of breath, since vampires technically didn’t need to breathe. She could run for days without getting tired, if she so chose. But she had the feeling that breathing was the last thing on their minds at the moment, so the reflex must have been involuntary. They had both been exerting themselves, and now the brain told the lungs to draw in air to compensate.

“I’m impressed,” Alucard stated with a wry chuckle. “You’ve lasted longer than I expected, _maghiară_.” Yoska inclined his head in a polite sort of manner, beads of sweat trickling down his temples at the motion.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he answered respectfully. “You’re everything I ever expected, and yet you’re only toying with me. You’re not even really fighting.”

“Only because you weren’t, either.” Alucard tilted his head to the side, looking the man over with a scrutinizing air. “I assumed you just wanted a warm-up. After all, how many centuries has it been since you last wielded a blade? Two? Three?”

“Perhaps two and a decade, or more. Outside of battle, I have little need of using one. And as for your assertion—I was being careless, but only to take your measure. I never go into battle without knowing my enemy’s mindset.”

“A just and proper creed,” Alucard conceded with a nod. “Wars are won that way; foolish men are those who ride heedlessly into battle. It’s a shame that you have to die tonight. I could have used a man like you in my Court.”

“ _Heh_ … I was nearly about to say the same for you.” He crouched once more, knuckles tightening around the blade. “I’m ready to end this. The moon sets, and dawn will break sooner rather than later.”

“Very well.” Again they sprang at one another, but this time the fight was different. Alucard moved as much as his opponent, running, leaping, trying his damndest to lop off the warrior’s head. But every time he swung the sword, he hit metal, or air. The leather-clad warrior ducked and dodged around him; suddenly his hand shot out and Alucard reeled back, the blade missing his jugular and leaving thin scratch up the side of his neck. “Impressive,” he acknowledged, bringing down his elbow to snap the man’s forearm like a toothpick. “But too risky.”

Yoska didn’t cease, instead grabbing the blade with his other hand and continuing as though nothing had happened, his arm hanging on by a few strands of meat. Shadows rushed to heal it, but it was nowhere as fast as the ancient king’s power, and even Seras could heal a bit faster than that. His shadows were sluggish, but he didn’t focus on them, instead pretending like he’d fought one-handed the entire time.

All the while, their dæmons were battling it out beside them. First they were in their human form, crossing blades of their own in time with their hosts, only for one to morph and then they were fighting wolves, birds, lions, only to go back to a human again. They struck more blows than their hosts did, but the men seemed to pay them no mind. But they could feel the strikes more than they let on.

The turning point of the battle came when Alucard’s wolf leapt at Yoska’s eagle, assuming a man’s shape and driving the sword through one large wing. Yoska shouted in pain, the king forgotten as he pivoted on his heel and ran to the dæmon, ‘catching’ it as it fell and became a formless mass of quivering shadow. Alucard’s dæmon landed on the ground as a tiger, hissing at the man while the king himself came in from behind, sword held aloft to strike a final blow. Seras gasped and covered her eyes, peeking through her fingers. She couldn’t bear to watch, but at the same time, she couldn’t look away.

Yoska heard the armor shift behind him and turned, falling onto his back with wide eyes, his good hand unable to hold his blade as he cradled his injured dæmon. He let out a shout of alarm in his native tongue as the shadows held close to his body leapt up again, unable to solidify but still strong enough to protect its host, deflecting the blade with a wavering strike. Alucard was thrown off balance, giving Yoska enough time to scramble to his feet, but the once quick warrior was now on full defensive. He backed away as quickly as possible, his dæmon trying to deflect every lightning-quick blow that Alucard dealt with his sword.

They worked their way back across the field, the dæmon losing stamina with every swing of the blade. Finally, the time came when it was too weak to stay up, and its feeble effort to stop the metal was in vain. The blade found home in the scarred warrior’s side, gliding easily through the flesh like butter until it reached the spine. The man made a choking sound, but his eyes were solemn and resigned to his fate now. He held out his hands and the dæmon crawled feebly up his body, still trying to protect the cleaved organs. It amassed in his hands, resting and shaking like a scared kitten. He blinked once, twice, and then gave a sad sort of nod to Alucard, who drew the sword up fast than Seras could see, slicing through his heart before cutting the injured arm away entirely.

“Euphrosyne,” he murmured, looking up at the moon before giving a sort of shaky sob and looking down at the shadows. “Don’t be afraid,” he spoke openly to the dæmon, even though Alucard and Seras were both in hearing distance. _Those who die have more to worry about than etiquette,_ her dæmon whispered to her. He dissolved into ash, starting from the heart outwards, the dæmon falling with him like drops of black rain to vanish before reaching the ground. Seras shivered, hugging herself as she watched the pale gray matter spill to the ground with the soft sound of sand in an hourglass.

 _And then there was one_ , the dæmon remarked rather cynically, and she looked up to see Alucard hold his sword in front of his face in a gesture that seemed more respectful than anything else. He then slid the blade back into his scabbard and then looked up from the pile of ash to Seras, sitting alone on her rock. She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze with determination.

It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the end! I finally caught Ao3 up with the status of the story that's on ff.net and Destiny's Gateway. Hopefully I can get those last few chapters in before long!


	12. My Adversary

            The sounds of battle were over. In the absence of the turmoil, the silence was almost deafening. The soft sounds of nature had not yet returned to their full power, having been silenced from fear at the intense shouting and spilling of blood. A sudden breeze lifted Seras’ hair, stirring the limbs on the tree above her head and bending the stalks of wheatgrass with a gentle touch. With it came the mingled scent of death and victory, wafting out across the landscape and burning her nose. The midnight cloak fluttered, obeying its own perverse laws of gravity as it rippled around its owner, offering tempting glimpses of the stained, yet still shining armor.

            Alucard looked around at the bloodied ground, long, knotted hair sliding from his shoulders and cascading down his back, mingling with the dæmon’s shadows that still swept around his form. His eyes met hers and he paused, watching her from behind the tangle of bangs that he hadn’t bothered to sweep from his face. She held his gaze evenly; if it still had a beat, her heart would have been thudding against her ribs like a caged animal. The adrenaline still hadn’t gone away, and the longer he stared at her, the more panicked she felt. Her dæmon by contrast seemed rather at ease, but then again, it wasn’t in her direct sight; it could have been projecting an air of peace in an effort calm her.

            He moved, taking a single step towards her. His boot was muffled by a pool of blood that hadn’t soaked into the ground yet, and almost immediately the shadows fell upon it and drank the leftover mess greedily. There was a moment where she irrationally wondered if he might slice her in two with his sword as well, but it was only the adrenaline talking. _A fight with him would be nice,_ her dæmon remarked casually before falling silent again. It seemed to want to take a backseat for the moment and let things play out. She glanced to see his dæmon hanging back as well, the lupine form lapping at the blood with a shadowy tongue. It moved on to another puddle, leaving nothing of the earlier fight except battered footprints in the dust.

            He stepped towards her again, metal clanking against itself as he moved. As he walked, it was though he was walking through time itself; hair shortening until the tangles fell away altogether, greaves melting to become rune-marked gloves, armor falling away into shadow and being replaced with crimson clothing, the white shirt standing out starkly in contrast, the way it always had. When he reached the boulder and stood before her, he was not the knight of old, but the Alucard she’d always known.  _And loved,_ her dæmon added.

            _And love_ , she agreed quietly, head inclined so that she didn’t break eye contact. _I love him._

 _And he doesn’t hate you. In fact, I’d go so far to say that he was quite fond of you._ The dæmon was clearly trying to be snide, but its tone fell flat and became more matter-of-fact at the end.

            _Maybe someday,_ she replied, a small frown crossing her face in light of the dæmon’s words. _Maybe…_

 _May be,_ the dæmon echoed. _Time will tell, and we have a lot of it._ It paused. _He does care, in his own way,_ it said after a moment, pensively, as though trying to make up for its earlier statement.

            _I know,_ she confirmed. _His dæmon—_ she had wanted to say something about how his dæmon had acted towards her, coddling her, kissing her, staring at her with those calm, gentle eyes that had been so _different_ from her former master’s, even though they were the same eyes on the same body. But knowing about it—and remembering it— was far easier than trying to grab the emotions and put them into words. It was hard, for there were some words that just didn’t describe Alucard, but his dæmon had personified them _through_ him.

            _Ah, here he comes_ , her dæmon noted before she had time to voice her confusion. She was shaken from her introspection—literally—as his hand gripped her forearm tightly and jerked her to her feet. She glared at him, but he didn’t let go.

            “I won,” he declared, as though she couldn’t have figured it out for herself. She refused to look away, though she felt her cheeks burning under his hard stare. Her heart moved to her throat and she swallowed the lump, trying to think of something beneficial to say that wouldn’t sound like an airheaded blonde. As they stood, his fingers loosened on her arm; she fought the urge to yank it away as they stroked lightly, as if to brush away the sting of the bruise that wouldn’t form, healing before any discoloration could have time to occur.

            “I know,” she finally replied, her voice hoarse. “You won the battle.” _But not the war,_ her dæmon added cheerfully. _That’s something he’ll never win._

            _Oh, shut up,_ she replied irritably. _I don’t want to spend eternity fighting with him._

            _Then you better convince him to roll over like a little puppy. Otherwise, that’s what we’ll be doing—from time to time, at least._ The dæmon sounded as though it couldn’t wait to get started. It laughed haughtily, but made no further comment as it waited for Alucard to make the next move. Seras cleared her throat. “Does this mean you’re finally giving in? Or are you going to leave in a huff?”

            “And just what does that mean?” He sounded almost easygoing—the full stomach and release of pent up energy had him in a good mood.

            “It’d be like you to kill all the suitors and then leave me alone,” she laughed sharply. “I’m surprised you’re even sticking around to chat. That’s not the sort of man you are.”

           “Don’t bother yourself with tacking me down with a description. Besides, you won’t get rid of me that easily, not now,” he answered, putting less than an inch of space between their bodies. “I killed those men for you.” He said it as though she were a trophy to be won, a prized castle that was his now. She shook herself away from his arm.

            “I’m not your little toy,” she warned sternly. “Get that through your head right now. You don’t own me, just because you killed a few weaker vampires. You’ll never own me again,” she proclaimed proudly. “I won’t go back to being your servant.”

            “Yes, I know. I’d be rather disappointed if you did,” he purred, grabbing ahold of her again. Before she knew it, her back was pressed against the boulder and he was bent over her. “Is that what you think I want?” She didn’t answer, and to her shock he pressed his face into the crook of her neck in a gesture that seemed relatively innocent, compared to what she’d thought he might do. He spoke again, voice muffled as his lips moved against her skin. “I killed…those men…for _you_ ,” he repeated, this time in an entirely different tone.

            “Huh?” She vaguely realized that her arms had wrapped around him, back stretched at an odd angle along the boulder. Her dæmon hummed pleasantly at the feeling of it, sidling past their entwined forms as a she-wolf and joining his dæmon at the blood. She felt the dæmon drink, small bursts of energy running like a drug through her bloodstream.

            “It was not only tonight that I slaughtered in your name,” he admitted. “Even these past thirty years, did you think I cared one whit about Integra?” He laughed coldly. “No, not her, never _her_. I killed three million, four hundred twenty-four thousand, eight hundred and sixty-seven souls for a chance to hear your voice echoing in my mind, and yours alone.” He pressed deeper, as though trying to go through her skin and be part of her in the same way that her dæmon was. “Imagine my disappointment when all I ever heard were snippets of a laugh, a single sob, fragments of a melody that I longed to hear for _thirty long years._ I have at last caught a glimpse of Hell, and I didn’t like it as much as I thought I might.”

            “I—I’m sorry,” she murmured, not sure of what else to say. 

            “I’d have destroyed entire countries if you’d only asked it of me,” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard her. “I still would. I have the strangest desire—” He paused. “To be entreated by you.” He sounded bitter now, but even that didn’t take away from the impact of is words. “It is I who has become _your_ servant, Seras Victoria.”

            “And what if… what if I don’t want a servant?” she asked. He rose slowly from her neck, eyeing her with a sharp stare. She blinked back, unsure of his emotions. His mask was in place, offering her no insight to his mind. How she longed, in this moment, to be connected to him again, and know what he was thinking!

            “What _do_ you want?” he nearly growled. She gulped, but refused to be quailed by the harsh growl.

            “An equal?” she offered. “Why does one of us always have to be the top of the chain? Why can’t we be equals, and do things together?” She found one of his hands, pulling it from her hip before squeezing the limp fingers tightly. “As one.” His expression turned thoughtful.

            “I’ve never had an equal,” he mused aloud.

            “And I haven’t been anyone’s equal for a long time,” she replied softly. Ever since she had become a vampire, she had felt the loss of comradery that came with the title. She was either their commander, or inhuman enough that no one cared to have her around. Sir Integra was fine, but she was still the boss, and the house servants were, well, servants. Pip was never able to stay around long, and that left her by her lonesome… except for the other creature on the manor’s grounds who was also alone. Didn’t logic state that they’d be better off sticking together, where no one would be lonely?

            “Hmm…” A single finger trailed down her cheek, tracing her jaw as he considered her offer. She leaned up into it unthinkingly, biting her tongue to keep his name from passing her lips. His touch seemed volatile now, where it hadn’t been before. Was it the concoction of pheromones and blood that had her senses on hyper-alert, or was she just now subconsciously giving into her desire for him? She couldn’t tell. “I think… of all the people in the world right now, perhaps you are one of the few worthy enough to be my adversary… or my equal.” He leered savagely. “Perhaps both, if the timing is right.”

            “Um…”Again, she had no idea what to say to that. He wanted her as an adversary? Did everything have to be fighting and wars with him? “I was thinking more along the lines of _allies_ rather than adversaries,” she clarified shyly, but he shook his head impatiently.

            “Allies come and go, but there will _always_ be an adversary.” Her lips parted, comprehension washing over her.

            “Alucard….” She tilted her head. “I know it’s not what you were going for, but that was actually a little romantic.” She still wasn’t sure exactly how his viewing her as an enemy would work, but if he wanted her around forever, who was she to complain?  A smug grin was her only response. “If that’s the way you want to play it… my adversary.”

            “My adversary,” he repeated, his voice a whispering purr. He smoothed the bangs from her forehead, staring down at her intently. “When we kissed, it was not I who kissed you,” he said conversationally, voice laced with suggestion. She glanced over his shoulder at the wolf dæmons, who were watching the tête-à-tête with some interest.

            “I know that. I was there too,” she joked, laughing weakly when he didn’t react to it. A single brow arched and he waited for her lapse back into silence.

 “I think now,” he said slowly, “is the time to remedy the situation.”

            “S-situation?” she stammered, pressing herself further into the boulder. He nodded gravely.

            “Yes,” he hissed softly, eyes dropping to her chest where it was pressed against his, gazing appreciatively. “You surely can’t object to a kiss, seeing as you chose me as one of your suitors, hmm? Now that I’m the only one left, who else is there to… how do humans say it? ‘Shower with affection?’” She nearly laughed at the thought of him willingly accepting any so-called showering of affection, but managed to keep it in check when he glared at her once more. She bit her lip for a brief moment before leaning up and pecking his cheek quickly. His skin was almost warm compared to its usual temperature; she wondered if he was still worked up from the fight, or quite literally hot under the collar. “That’s it?” he humphed when she pulled away. “That’s the kiss of a small child— not a lover, my dear.”

            “Just remember, all’s fair in love and war,” she warned teasingly, a wicked grin crossing her lips as she wriggled backwards out of his grasp and up towards the summit of the boulder. A disgruntled look pushed its way past the mask, but he didn’t reach for her immediately. He seemed to be biding his time, eyeing her as a scholar might look at a particularly puzzling dilemma. She couldn’t help but laugh this time, seeing the proverbial gears turning in his head. Then, from her higher viewpoint, she saw his dæmon stand up and shake its fur. She was so caught up in the sight of the shadow that she nearly missed his glove sneaking its way up the rock towards her ankle. Nearly. “You still have to work for your pay.”

            “Now, now,” he tutted as she yanked her ankle away from his questing fingers. “To the victor go the spoils, and we’ve both admitted that I’ve won already.” _Oh, he thinks he’s witty now,_ her dæmon purred, but made no move to stand as the ancient vampire reached for her, intent on claiming a proper reward for his deeds.

            “As your adversary, it’s my job to make sure you’re never the victor for long,” she advised coyly, letting the tips of his fingers brush her leg before climbing just out of reach again. His face twisted in anger and she arched a brow, waving at him from her little perch.  His smile stretched and froze in place as he tried to keep his impatience with her under control. She tucked her knees beneath her chin as she watched, wondering what he’d do. There wasn’t a good foothold for him to climb up the rock after her, and while he could easily jump to reach her, she could just as easily see it coming and move away.

            “Police Girl,” he cooed, the name vicious in its over-pronounced ease and almost singsong in nature. “Come down to me, my dear little Draculina.” She smiled innocently, shaking her head. Adding insult to injury her dæmon slid casually up the rock, climbing the smooth surface like a hill and passing just within touching distance of his hand before joining Seras on her seat. His dæmon followed but stopped by its host, curling the bushy shadow-tail around Alucard’s legs as the void where its eyes should have been looked longingly up at her. She looked back and its tail wagged once before it turned its attention to the increasingly agitated vampire.

            “Why don’t _you_ come up _here_?” she retorted smartly.

            “And will you just run away again if I do?”  His genial attitude and soft, imploring tone continued, but she wasn’t lulled into a false sense of security like he clearly wanted her to be. _Mesmerizing might have worked on a vampire with a **simpler** mind, _ her dæmon laughed cynically, _but not us._ Seras humphed under her breath, a little irritated that he even tried to put her under his control with silly little mind tricks. _Show him who’s the boss_ , it suggested.

            “Say ‘please’ and I’ll think about it,” she answered in the same syrupy-sweet tone that he had used. The smile stretched from ear to ear, but didn’t meet his burning eyes.

            “Do not presume to order me,” he warned softly.

            “Don’t try to gain the upper hand on _me_ ,” she accused, pointing a finger down at him. “Don’t think I didn’t catch on to what you were trying to do just then. Is that any way to treat an equal?” They frowned at each other for a long moment, neither one speaking until she cleared her throat. “No tricks, no powers, no anything. Just behave yourself—if you promise to do that, I’ll stop running.” For the first time in her undead existence, his gaze faltered and he looked away, brow knitting. “No more tricks?” she prompted gently. He looked back up at her before raising his arms, fingers spread as the shadows dispersed from around him and vanished into the night.

            “No tricks,” he agreed solemnly. “Come down, Seras.”

            “Gladly.” She untucked her knees and slid down the face of the boulder, heels digging in the rock to slow her descent. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and threw her whole weight on him at once, trusting him to keep his balance as she held him in a tight embrace. There was a pause, and then his arm came up to hold her steady, fingers pressed into the space between her shoulder blades. “Let’s go, Alucard,” she stated, neither a question nor an order as she rubbed her cheek against his neck, inhaling his warm scent.

            “Go? Where?” he asked, his other hand finding purchase on her lower back. It was as close as he’d ever come to returning her affections, although she couldn’t say that he was definitely hugging her back. She shrugged and shook her head simultaneously before leaning back to look him in the eye. Their noses brushed, but he made no move to kiss her, his eyes searching hers for some unknown thing.

            “Home, I guess. I really don’t want to make love in a field.” His nose wrinkled and she couldn’t help the bark of laughter that bubbled up from her chest, sounding almost harsh in the absence of any other sound. “What?!” she exclaimed, tilting her head. She lowered her voice until it was the closest thing she could imagine to a sultry drawl. “You don’t want to?” His arms tightened around her, fingers digging punishingly into her spine.

            “I want to fuck you until my master throws us out for disturbing her peace,” he admitted. “I’m more than fine with having you against this rock, but if you’d prefer a wall instead—” He stopped when she shook her head.

            “No dice. First time—in the bed, beneath the covers, no rush, no screaming or disturbing anyone’s peace, and we _never_ refer to it as fucking,” she named off, ticking her demands off on her fingers. His eyebrows rose steadily, but he didn’t agree or disagree. She shrugged again after a moment. “Take it or leave it—after all, you’re the one with something to lose here. I can go without you for an eternity.” She tossed her hair and played aloofness. He grunted in amusement, but still didn’t answer her. She watched him from the corner of her eye before clicking her tongue in pretend exasperation. “Alright, alright—we _don’t_ have to be under the sheets. I can compromise.”

            “I see that this is the best sort of deal I can expect from an equal,” he finally said. She rolled her eyes.

            “Just because we’re equals doesn’t mean that I don’t have standards. I’m not losing my virginity against the bedroom wall.”

            “I was thinking more along the lines of my master’s office.” She smacked his chest lightly, but still hard enough to make a hollow _thud_.

            “We’re not doing it in there! Ever!” His eyes narrowed as he leered at her.

            “We’ll see….” He pressed her to him and the shadows erupted around them, covering up the moon and the wheatgrass around them. She closed her eyes as her stomach flipped, not used to being carried along for the ride instead of just phasing herself. When she opened them again, she was relieved to find that he’d taken them to her bedroom. He sat her down and she pushed him lightly towards the coffin, one hand reaching out for her clothes cupboard.

            “Make yourself comfortable; I’m going to get ready. Just wait here,” she said, grabbing a pajama shirt out of the drawer without even looking to see which one it was. He watched as she ran to the bathroom, offering him one last cheerful look before shutting the door. She quickly began stripping off her clothes, her dæmon rushing to the mirror. “Help me look sexy,” she ordered absently as she worked on the buttons to her uniform.

            “I’d thought you’d never ask,” the dæmon gushed happily, its hands already tearing off the reflection’s gloves and working fingers through her hair. “Washcloth to wash your face, oh—and brush your teeth, too.” It paused. “Why on earth did you choose _that_ shirt?” It made a face. “Stripes?”

            “They’re flattering,” she protested, as though she’d meant to choose this exact shirt from her cupboard. She wet a washcloth and ran it over herself quickly, shadows sucking up the moisture as she scrubbed her face and threw it into the bin before buttoning the pajama shirt. It barely covered her panties, but she supposed that might be part of the charm. “Do I need makeup or something? I look so pale,” she said doubtfully, lifting her bangs to study her face.

            “Alright, Miss Ostrich: your head’s been in the sand these past few decades, hasn’t it?” the dæmon reproached. “Vampires _like_ pale skin—the paler, the better.” It fluffed her hair more, shadows mimicking its movements on Seras’ body as it swept the hair into a tousled look before adjusting the collar of the nightshirt. “Teeth!” it reminded, and Seras obediently took the extra moment to brush her teeth. She thought that for her first time she’d be too nervous to move, but she was actually… excited? “It’s the hormones,” her dæmon explained in answer to her unspoken thoughts.

“Vampire stuff. Very exciting. Hurry up and spit,” it complained, mouth full of blue foam. “Okay?” is said when she wiped her mouth after rinsing it. “And… strike a pose for me.” Seras tried to make a sexy pose, but the dæmon only sighed and pinched the bridge of its nose. “Don’t do that in front of him, I’m begging you.”

“S-sorry,” Seras mumbled, blushing bright pink and crossing her arms. “What about this?” She tried a different way and the dæmon looked at her before nodding in approval.

“Do it against the doorframe when you go out,” it advised. “And don’t worry, because I’ll be right there with you.”

“I know you will,” she conceded, feeling a swell of emotion in her heart for the dæmon. It grinned toothily and slid from the mirror, giving her a thumbs up from the tiled floor. She returned it before throwing open the door.

“Well? What do you think?”

* * *

 

            _Nervous_? His jacket slid from his shoulders, melting into thin air and becoming nothing but pooling shadow on the ground. This too quickly vanished, along with his boots. He sat back down on the coffin, gazing at his reflection in the mirror of the closed bathroom door.

            _Of course not,_ he replied coldly. If anything, he was… excited, fulfilled; he was _entitled_ to this night, after dealing with the past week of bullshit from this lone female and her ceaseless spiels about how he should behave. He had earned it, having refrained from ripping her head off in a fit of anger (though he had come close). Even now, she was demanding things left and right from him about how he could take her! He listened to her muttering to her dæmon in the bathroom, her voice too low to pick up the specific words.

            _I’d say that you are_ , his dæmon remarked casually, tilting its head forward and peering at him from the eternally matted bangs. _Don’t worry—the gap between lovers shouldn’t have messed much with your ‘puterea de ședere’, as it were._ He bared his teeth in annoyance and the creature laughed, shrugging one shoulder in perfect indifference. _And even if it had, I doubt a little virgin like her would even bother complaining about it._

            At the words, his hands clenched on his knees. He could already feel her body beneath his; it would be warm, the first warm body he’d touched in a long, long time. Not the relentless heat of human warmth, or the icy chill of some of his poorly fed brethren, but a truly warm body that equaled his own. _As equals_ , she had said. _As one._

            _As one_ , his dæmon conceded with a solemn nod. _This is truly the point of no return._

            _You don’t think I know that,_ he snapped, lips twitching as the idea of growling the words aloud crossed his mind. _I’m no fool._

            **_That_** _has yet to be determined_ , it retorted in the same tone, eyes flashing with irritation. _Tell me, fallen prince, do you really think that you can meet all of her demands head on? That any challenge she puts before you is absolutely nothing?_

 _What do you mean?_ He scoffed, crossing his arms to hide the clenched fists from the dæmon’s gaze. But it did no good to hide something from oneself, or a part of oneself at any rate. The dæmon only raised its own clenched fist in a mocking parody of his own, studying the runes on the back of the immaculate glove with interest.

            _You told her earlier that you had the desire to be entreated. It’s true, is it not?_ It was true. As strange as the sensation was, in that moment it had filled him with a burning desire for her to demand more of him. For the first time in his existence, he had held the feeling of unworthiness, and had the intense need to make it right. To make him worthy of her attention. She could have asked for anything in the world, and he’d have foregone sleep and food until it was at her feet. Countries would have fallen at the rise of her slender hand, jewels would have rained down upon her and decorated her like sparkling morning dew, anything she wished for could have been hers…

            _Yet what does she ask for?_ the dæmon asked him. _Did she require wealth, land, servants? Things that you could, and would, have given her at a moment’s notice? No, she’s not shallow enough for your taste in gifts, I’m afraid._ It was smug now, setting the trap for him, and he could see it a mile away. Still… _What does she **entreat of you**_ , _Vampire King_?

            _To be my equal_ , he answered tersely, jaw tight in his anger. _Happy now? Satisfied in your answer, dæmon?_

            _Not quite yet,_ the dæmon admitted. It stood, looking down at him from across the room as it crossed its arms to mimic his. _What shall you do if she **entreats** you to love her? To be sweet and gentle—all the things you aren’t, and will never be? What will you do when she asks you for something that you simply can’t give her? _ He was silent. _Meet my eyes, voivode. Give your answer, fallen King._

           _I don’t know_ , he snarled, forcing his eyes up to the reflection. His own gaze stared unfalteringly back at him, daring him to face what he already knew… and, he might even say, feared.

            _Of all the things to be afraid of in this world,_ the dæmon said softly, almost apologetically, _that might be one of the most practical._ It opened its mouth to speak again, but its eyes widened and then it was gone, vanished as the door flung open. _Hey!_ Of course the female on the other side of the door couldn’t hear it, but the involuntary action was still there.

            “Well? What do you think?”

 For a long moment, he _couldn’t_ think; he could only look on in shock at the sight before him. Leaned against the door frame, fingers playing with the hem of the shirt that oh-so-teasingly showed the very edges of her underwear without giving a full view of the fabric, hair tousled but not altogether tangled, cheeks tinged pink from shyness as well as (he assumed) a fierce scrubbing in the washroom, and her _eyes_ —light from the washroom playing off the light from the bedroom, turning the crimson depths into a swirling sea of color. He didn’t answer, and she began to fidget against the wood of the threshold. “W-well?” she asked again.

“Perfection,” he answered, holding out one arm in an invitation for her to come. “Utter perfection.” The strangest part was that he _meant_ it, too; there was no false flattery in his mind. She colored even further, but didn’t respond to his compliments. Instead, she padded across the room to open the door, leaning out and looking up and down the corridor before shutting it again and bolting the lock. “Afraid we might be found out?” he teased, not unkindly. She shot him a stern glare as she fixed the lock, checking it twice before finally moving towards him.

“Maybe I just didn’t want to be interrupted?” she offered. He smirked, nodding. “Now, get off of the bed so that I can raise the lid.” He obeyed, rising in a fluid motion as she pressed the button and barely missing the edge of the coffin as it rose, showing the bed beneath. He sat back down and she joined him, resting a polite distance away. He growled impatiently, pulling her towards him and ignoring the muffled squeak of protest.

He meant to roll her onto the bed and underneath him, but when her head came flush with his chest he paused.  She hesitated as well, as though trying to sense his thoughts and then quietly shifted in his arms until his hold on her became more of an embrace. His dæmon purred happily from the mirror, but that was nothing but white noise in the back of his mind. His arms tightened around her, shocked at the strange sensation stirring deep within him. _Finally_ , he sighed, enjoying the soft warmth of her curves pressed up against him. _Finally._ Everything he had fought for, right in his hands, true spoils of war, ripe for him to enjoy.

He couldn’t wait to get started.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: So, I originally had this chapter all be the finale, but it was going to be far too long of a chapter compared to the others. For brevity’s sake, I cut it about the middle. Hope you enjoyed this part, and tune in next year for the TRUE finale! (Okay, maybe not next year, per say, but still: even I don’t know when I’m about to post something.)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net, but I forgot the date I started it. (shrug)   
> I'm finally getting the hang of these crazy c/p rules on the chapters, I think!


End file.
